Picture Perfect
by lilyvandersteen
Summary: Kurt makes a pact with an evil spirit to save his father's life in return for many years of servitude. The spirit wants sexual favours, too, but is rebuffed by Kurt's soulmate protection. Enraged, the spirit traps him into a painting and tells him only his soulmate will be able to rescue him. Fifty years later, Blaine discovers the painting and is struck by its beauty.
1. Prologue

Author's Note:

I saw this "Kurt gets trapped in a painting" prompt on the Prompt a Klaine fic blog and really couldn't resist. So here's another fairy-tale Klaine fic from me to you, with love

Thank you to my wonderful beta hkvoyage, who stuck with me through two story switches and encouraged me and offered ideas for the continuation of this story whenever I got stuck. Thank you for your tireless support and for putting up with my procrastinating and poor time management. You rock!

This story is enhanced by the beautiful art of not just one, but two artists. Lallagoglee made the cover art, and MyPopCultureSummer made the chapter art. Thank you so SO much to the both of you! You're amazing!

I'm dedicating this story to sunshineoptimismandangels. Enjoy, sweetie!

In loving memory of Josée Gardin, my "Grace". I miss you.

Picture Perfect

by lilyvandersteen

Prologue

 _Lima, August 1940_

"I want Mommy to kiss me goodnight," Kurt whined.

Burt sighed. "Your mommy's ill, buddy, I told you so."

"But she's just lying in bed, so I could go to her for a kiss," Kurt insisted.

"No!" Burt boomed, and Kurt fell silent, his eyes huge and tearing up.

Burt sighed again. "Listen, kiddo, your mom's very ill, and she'd make you ill, too, if you go near her. Even I can't see her anymore. Only the doctor's allowed in her room now."

"Will the doctor make her better?" Kurt wanted to know.

Burt took his cap off and rubbed his hand over his head. "He's trying to. But I don't think there's much he can do at this stage. We noticed it too late. Lizzie just thought it was her time of the month, only a bit worse than usual. So she didn't say anything straightaway. And then when she realised, the usual medication didn't help anymore."

"But there must be something you can do!" Kurt said, his eyes brimming with tears and overflowing. "You're the king, Dad! You have the strongest magic of anyone here!"

Burt gathered his son in his arms and hugged him tightly. "I can do much, yes, but fae magic only goes so far. Life and death are beyond me, kiddo. The only ones who could help Lizzie now are the ifrit."

"Ifrit?" Kurt tried out the unfamiliar word.

"That's what they call themselves," Burt explained. "You can also call them 'ruhin'. Or evil spirits, 'cause that's what they are. They're a kind of djinn."

Kurt perked up instantly and his eyes shone. "Like the djinn who helped Aladdin?"

Burt shook his head, chuckling humourlessly. "No, kiddo. Not like that at all. The ifrit rank only one level under the angels and devils. Very powerful. Not the kind of djinn you can put in a lamp and make your servant. They'd rip you apart if they caught you so much as thinking of it."

Kurt's eyes widened, and he clung even more tightly to Burt, shaking with fear.

Burt held his son close and stroked his hair. "Aw, don't worry, bud, they wouldn't go after a little kid like you. I'm just saying…. You don't want to mess with the ifrit. They're evil, and would ask an unbearable price for saving Lizzie. They'd probably want you for a slave. No way am I contacting them."

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "How would you find them anyway, if they're djinn?"

Burt nervously played with his wedding ring. "There… There are ways. But as I said, I'm not going to."

"So Mommy's going to die?" Kurt asked, his face stricken.

Burt nodded, beyond words.

Kurt dissolved into tears, and felt his father tremble and cry, too.

Two days later, Kurt's mother died. At the funeral, Burt held Kurt's hand so tightly it hurt, but Kurt just bit his lip and didn't say a word.

Thousands of people came to bid their queen goodbye and to offer the king and crown prince their sympathy. Kurt felt strangely numb. He'd stopped crying a while ago, and now he just stood there, next to his dad, white-faced and not fully taking in anything that happened or that was said. It all appeared muted, as if he were swimming underwater.

Burt shook hands, greeted everyone kindly and thanked them for their support at a time like this. When the queue dwindled at last, Kurt heaved a sigh of relief. He was cold and tired and hungry and just wanted to get away from everyone.

Just then, Burt stiffened, and Kurt peeked at him curiously. Burt's jaw was set, and he seemed very ill at ease.

Kurt looked at the people who had just greeted his dad. A father and a son. The son was maybe a few years older than Kurt, and grinned at Kurt as though he didn't have a care in the world.

The father was now murmuring words of comfort to Burt, who didn't seem comforted by them in the least. Burt was wound tight, his lips pressed together in a thin line and his eyes steadfastly on the man talking to him, without blinking even once.

What was the man saying that made Burt both furious and scared at the same time? Kurt pricked up his ears.

"We would have been only too happy to help," the man assured Burt, his voice smooth and unctuous.

Burt nodded jerkily and forced out a thank you.

"And this is your son?" the man inquired, putting a long white finger under Kurt's chin to make him look up.

Kurt felt Burt bristle next to him, but his dad kept his temper under control and only said, in an even tone, "Yes, this is Kurt."

The man smiled at Kurt, and though his face was handsome and his smile beautiful, Kurt felt uneasy. "Lovely. He takes after your late wife."

Burt's breath hitched. "Yes. Yes, he does."

"Well, should you ever need our services, you know how to contact us," the man said, and again, Burt nodded jerkily and forced out a thank you.

Later that day, Kurt asked his father, "Who was that man? The one who made you angry?"

Burt stiffened, and then let out a deep sigh. "That was Andrew Smythe. He's an ifrit."

Kurt's mouth fell open. "Oh…"

"Yes, oh…" Burt snapped. "He had no right touching you, greedy son-of-…"

Burt took one look at his son, who now looked terrified, and swept him up in a hug. "He won't bug us again, kiddo, don't worry. Not as long as I live, and I'm not planning on dying anytime soon."

Kurt breathed in the comforting smell of his dad, and his heart-rate slowed down again. Everything would be all right. Even without his mom.

K&B

 _Lima, November 1949_

"Well?" Kurt prompted as soon as the doctor came out of his father's bedroom.

The doctor sighed. "Well, your highness, unfortunately, it looks like your father has contracted the same disease your mother died of. And, like your mother, the king waited too long to call on me. The disease is in its advanced stages already. There isn't much I can do."

Kurt blanched. "No!"

"I'm sorry, your highness. Your father will be greatly missed."

Kurt shook his head obstinately. "No. No, no, no. Dad can't die. He just CAN'T."

Kurt made to enter his dad's bedroom, but the doctor was quick to stop him. "No, your highness. You're all the kingdom has left now. We need you to stay healthy and rule in your father's stead."

"B-b-but…" Kurt spluttered.

"If you go in there without taking the necessary precautions," the doctor gestured to the mask and gloves he was wearing, covering every bit of skin, "you'll contract the disease immediately. It's very contagious."

"Then tell me what to put on so that I'll be safe," Kurt insisted. "I have to see my dad. I HAVE to."

The doctor pursed his lips in disapproval and was about to launch into another spiel about how dangerous it was when he caught sight of Kurt's death glare and clamped his mouth shut. He rummaged in his bag and got out a pair of sterile gloves and a mask for Kurt to wear. "If you're sure, your highness… I would advise against it."

Kurt just threw the man another glare, quickly put the protective gear on and slipped inside the room. Immediately, the stench overwhelmed him. Ugh, what kind of disease was this?

He could see that Burt's eyes were closed, and he approached cautiously, not wanting to wake up his dad if he was sleeping. But as soon as he stood next to the bed, Burt's eyes flew open.

"Hi, Dad," Kurt said softly.

Burt shot up in alarm. "Kurt, get out of here! You'll get ill, too!"

Kurt gently pushed his dad down again and pointed to his gloves. "I'm being careful. See?"

Burt groaned.

"So the doctor says you have what Mom had," Kurt said conversationally. "And he says you're going to die."

Burt sighed. "Yes. This sickness… It makes you waste away until there's nothing left of you."

"So I thought it might be time to contact those ifrit," Kurt continued, his voice upbeat, though he felt anything but.

"No!" Burt shouted, his eyes bulging out and his hand gripping the blankets so hard his knuckles went white. "Are you crazy?"

"Maybe I am," Kurt agreed calmly. "But I'd rather not become an orphan at sixteen."

"You'd rather be a slave instead?" Burt raged.

"Yes," Kurt said. "I'd do whatever I had to do to keep you happy and healthy."

Burt stared at Kurt for quite some time, a peculiar expression on his face. Then he mumbled, "Shouldn't it be the parent saying that to his child?"

Kurt's stance softened somewhat, and he took his father's hand in his. "I want to help you. I want to save you. You said those ifrit could make that happen. I don't care what they ask in return. Please. Please, Dad, let me do this."

Burt gave Kurt a piercing look. Then, seemingly satisfied by what he saw, Burt sat up against the headboard and tugged his wedding ring off his finger. "You always were the most stubborn of us all. Got that from both Lizzie and me, and you're about ten times as bad as either of us."

Burt handed the ring to Kurt, who looked at the lumpy black-and-silver thing decorated with a big six-pointed star, bemused. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Summon the ifrit, of course," Burt shrugged. "Put it on your ring finger, turn it around counterclockwise and then say 'vayzn zikh', and they should appear."

"Vay what?" Kurt asked, slipping the ring onto his finger.

"Vayzn zikh," Burt repeated. "It's Yiddish for 'show yourself'. The ifrit answer to that."

"Why can't I just say it in English?" Kurt grumbled.

"Because this is the Seal of Solomon. And Solomon was a Jewish king."

"For real?" Kurt blurted out.

Burt raised his eyebrows. "For real, yeah. Comes from your Mom's family. Her grandfather prided himself on being descended straight from the House of David."

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Right."

"Now get on with it, if you really want to do this," Burt ordered. "Won't be much use if I'm already dead by the time you get 'round to the summoning."

Kurt looked at Burt, aghast, and was relieved to see him grinning.

"Vayzn zikh," Burt prompted.

"All right, all right," Kurt said. He turned the ring and said the words. A wisp of smoke came from the ring. It grew and grew until the room was filled with smoke and Kurt could no longer see his dad and had trouble breathing. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the smoke disappeared again, and a tall young man stood before Kurt. Was this an ifrit, then? He looked way too normal for that. Like a frat boy, actually. An over-privileged brat with a Roman numeral behind his name, a trust fund and an ego that was visible from space.

"You called me, owner of the Seal?" the frat boy said. He looked bored.

Kurt's eyes flicked to Burt - because Burt was the owner of the Seal, wasn't he? - but Burt just nodded encouragingly.

 _All right, then… First things first._

"My name's Kurt," Kurt said, feeling out of his depth. "Kurt Hummel."

The frat boy rolled his eyes. "Sebastian Smythe. Pleasure. Now can we be done with the niceties and get down to business?"

Kurt swallowed a sassy retort, and replied, "Could you please make my father better and guarantee him a long and healthy life?"

Sebastian smirked. "Course I can. Question is, what do I get in return?"

Kurt twisted his hands. "Anything."

Sebastian hummed. "All right then. A hundred years of servitude will do."

"No!" Burt shouted.

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow at Burt and then turned to Kurt again. "So? Do we have a deal?"

Kurt's throat felt dry all of a sudden, and his eyes pricked. One hundred years without his dad? Being made to do who knows what? That was a steep price for saving his dad. Yet… It wasn't even half of his lifetime, if he lived to old age. With a bit of luck, a fae could become 250 years old.

Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. "Deal."

"Shake on it," Sebastian demanded, holding out his right hand.

Kurt shook hands with Sebastian, and for a moment, a ring of fire appeared around their clasped hands. Sebastian looked at it with satisfaction and then let go of Kurt's hand. The fire disappeared, leaving nothing but a sulphuric smell behind.

"All right then, let's see," Sebastian smirked. He stepped up to Burt's bedside and laid a hand on Burt's stomach. A warm golden glow spread over Burt's entire body, enveloping him in light. Burt let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes.

"Dad!" Kurt yelled in alarm, and Sebastian rolled his eyes again and told Kurt to stop panicking.

Not even five minutes later, Burt was in perfect health again and got up from his bed.

"Thank you," Kurt said to Sebastian. "Can I please say goodbye to my father before I have to leave?"

"Seriously?" Sebastian snapped. "What are you, a little kid? What idiot gave you that Seal? It's WASTED on you!"

Kurt just looked at him pleadingly, and after a beat, Sebastian shrugged. "Okay, sure. If you don't take too long."

Kurt rushed to his dad and hugged him tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Yes, I am," Burt grumbled, "but will you be?"

"I'll be fine," Kurt assured his dad with more confidence than he actually felt. "Just hang in there, and I'll be back before you know it."

Burt snorted. "What? You're going to make me sleep for a hundred years? I'm no Sleeping Beauty."

That coaxed a giggle out of Kurt.

"I'll be fine, Dad, really," Kurt repeated, not sure if he was reassuring himself or his dad with his words.

Burt kissed the top of Kurt's head. "Thanks, kiddo. Thanks for being braver than I was."

"I couldn't bear to lose you," Kurt admitted. "Bye, Dad."

"Bye, son," Burt forced out, tightening his hold on Kurt for a moment and then letting him go.

Kurt stepped out of the embrace, lifted his chin and announced, "I'm ready."

Sebastian nodded, took him by the arm and made the two of them disappear in a swirl of smoke.

K&B

 _Westerville, April 1952_

Being a servant of Sebastian's, Kurt found, required waiting on the ifrit hand and foot. Sebastian WAS like a frat boy. A disgusting and lazy and always hungry and thirsty frat boy. Kurt prepared Sebastian's meals, brought him beer and snacks when he was watching football or playing foosball, did his laundry and ironing, cleaned his apartment and changed his bedding every day and sometimes more than once, if necessary.

Sebastian liked sex. That much was obvious. He had a lot of it, with a lot of different partners. Kurt was always told to make himself scarce while Sebastian was getting it on with yet another guy, and then called back in to clean up as soon as the guy had left.

After three years of service, Kurt now no longer lifted an eyebrow when he found semen in the fruit bowl, on the ceiling fan or smeared against the living room wall. He just cleaned it all up as quickly and efficiently as he could and then slunk away to the utility room, where he slept on an inflatable mattress.

One day, though, the routine Kurt had grown used to was disrupted when Sebastian hooked up with a guy that didn't satisfy him. The first sign Kurt got of that was Sebastian howling in pain, and moments later, Sebastian thundered through the living room, holding the guy by the scruff of his neck, both of them buck-naked. Kurt, who was preparing dinner in the open kitchen, saw Sebastian yank open the front door and throw the guy out.

"My clothes!" the guy pleaded, but Sebastian slammed the door closed without paying any attention to that.

Sebastian turned around, scowling. Kurt hastily retreated further into the kitchen, thinking of hiding in the pantry until Sebastian's temper tantrum was over. That, however, drew Sebastian's attention. His eyes zoomed in on his servant and an evil smirk appeared on his face.

Kurt tried to sneak into the pantry unobtrusively, his heart hammering. Sebastian, however, wasn't having that, and stalked into the kitchen, following Kurt.

"Now where do you think you're going, princess?" Sebastian purred. "Maybe it's time to add a new job to your workload? Hmm, I'm not much into twinks, but since you lost your baby fat and filled out a little, you don't look as much of a girl as you did before. And your butt's quite nice, as butts go."

Dread washed over Kurt, instant and sickening.

 _No, please no!_

Kurt didn't realise he'd spoken those words out loud until Sebastian crowded into his personal space, chuckling. "Still a virgin, are you? Don't worry, princess, you'll get used to it soon enough!"

When he felt Sebastian's breath wash over him, Kurt backed up against the wall and curled up into a little ball there, his only thought, _No, no, no, this can't be happening!_

"You can start by blowing me!" Sebastian commanded, and he grabbed Kurt by the hair and tugged him towards his erection. All of a sudden, a force not his own swept through Kurt and made Sebastian release his grip on Kurt's head and jump back as though he'd been burnt or electrocuted.

Sebastian gaped at Kurt for a moment. "You're one of those soulmate weirdoes!"

"I'm sorry, what?" Kurt asked, completely non-plussed.

"I thought that was just an old wives' tale!" Sebastian muttered to himself, and then scoffed, a bit louder, "Two halves of a whole. Meant for each other. Protected from anyone else. Who believes in that sort of mumbo-jumbo?"

Sebastian glared at Kurt, who shrank back, his hands in front of him in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be," Sebastian growled. "You swore to be my servant for a hundred years. And now you're not obeying my orders! I can't have that!"

"But…" Kurt protested feebly. "I can't help it! If I could obey, I would. I gave you my word."

"Yes, you did!" Sebastian hissed. "And now you're not keeping your end of the deal! You TRICKED me!"

To his alarm, Kurt saw Sebastian grow, grow, grow. The ifrit morphed into a form that was far from human. He became a fiery spirit that filled the entire room, half shadow, half flame, roaring like a wildfire and sucking all the oxygen out of the air until Kurt was choking. Kurt cowered away and gasped for breath, red spots swimming in his vision.

At some point, Kurt must have blacked out. When he came to, Sebastian was hovering over him, back in his human form and smirking at Kurt in a way that made his blood run cold.

"So you're waiting for your soulmate, are you?" Sebastian sing-songed, his voice syrupy. "How sweet. Well, far be it from me to make you do anything else but WAIT. That wouldn't be very nice of me, now, would it?"

Kurt, feeling very groggy, only blinked in answer.

"No, it wouldn't," Sebastian answered himself. "So what I'm going to do is… I'm going to set you free. Isn't that nice of me? After only three years, too!"

Kurt blinked again, his brain too fuzzy to make sense of what Sebastian was saying.

"And just so no-one makes the same mistake I made," Sebastian continued, "I'm going to protect you from anyone with bad intentions. Isn't that nice of me? I'm going to make it very obvious that though they can look all they want, they can't touch."

Kurt gaped at Sebastian stupidly.

 _What on earth is he getting at?_

Sebastian stretched his arms out towards Kurt, palms up as though he were warming himself by the fire, and recited an incantation in an unfamiliar language. Kurt felt himself shrink into a much smaller size, and before he could run away, Sebastian threw him into something rectangular, and Kurt lost the use of his arms and legs. He simply couldn't move anymore.

"There you go," Sebastian simpered. "Pretty as a picture - because now you are a picture! Such a lifelike painting, wow, it's beautiful!"

 _What? I'm trapped inside a painting?_

"And now, I think I'm going to put this painting somewhere outside the fairy realm, 'cause we wouldn't want your daddy dearest to find you before your soulmate does, now, would we?" Sebastian mused.

Sebastian snapped his fingers. "I've got it. The Delaneys! Their cousin charged me to banish them from the fairy realm 'cause he wants to inherit their grandfather's fortune and powers. So I'll move the Delaneys to the non-magical Westerville and put this painting and a few others in the house they live in. As soon as I've banished them, they'll repel magic, so it's not like they'll ever notice anything special about your portrait, princess!"

Kurt could only look on in horror as Sebastian summoned the Delaneys, stripped them of all magic and established them in a house where his portrait hung in the spare bedroom.

Before Sebastian left the house, he smirked and winked at Kurt. "Only true love will save you now, princess. Good luck finding your soulmate here!"


	2. Chapter 1: Pretty as a Picture

**Author's note:**

 **This chapter is from Blaine's point of view. He's five years old here.**

Chapter 1: Pretty as a Picture

 _Westerville, August 1999_

"Now you be good, Blainey-Bear, all right?" Pam cooed, hugging Blaine one last time for good measure.

Blaine put his thumb in his mouth and nodded wordlessly, shuffling his feet. He liked Mrs Delaney, truly, he did. She had the softest, sweetest voice, she had endless patience playing with him, and she always had the best cookies, and didn't mind him taking more than two. But now she wouldn't just be looking after him for the afternoon. He'd have to stay the night, and that scared him a bit.

"Pam, come on, we're going to be late if you don't hurry up," Edward snapped. "Blaine will be fine, won't you, Blaine? Oh, for the love of god, will you take that thumb out of your mouth! You're five years old, you're not a baby anymore!"

Blaine hurriedly took his thumb out of his mouth and made a valiant effort not to cry. He couldn't keep his lower lip from trembling, though. Pam noticed and stretched her arms out towards him, but Edward took her by the arm and steered her away. "Stop mollycoddling him. Good evening, Mrs Delaney, and thanks again for agreeing to look after Blaine."

"It's my pleasure," Mrs Delaney assured him, petting Blaine's curls to comfort him.

"Bye, Blainey, be good," Pam said, looking over her shoulder. "We'll be back tomorrow evening, by six o'clock at the latest."

"Okay, Mom," Blaine mumbled, and when she blew him a kiss, he half-smiled and waved at her.

Seeing his parents' car drive away, Blaine swallowed with difficulty. He was a big boy. He could handle this. A few tears escaped anyway, and Mrs Delaney wiped them away with a handkerchief that had a picture of Mickey Mouse on it. She saw him look at the cartoon figure and smiled. "You like it? I embroidered this myself. You can keep the hanky, sweetie. It used to be my son's, but he's all grown up now, of course."

Blaine accepted the hanky with a muttered thanks, and let himself be led into Mrs Delaney's house.

"Now, I'm first going to put your overnight bag into your room. Want to come along and see where you'll be sleeping?"

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. He'd never been upstairs in Mrs Delaney's house before, and he was really curious to see everything. He raced up the stairs and inspected the pictures on the walls while Mrs Delaney caught up with him.

"That one's pretty," Blaine pointed to a painting of a meadow with wildflowers, right at the edge of a forest.

Mrs Delaney took some time to answer. She was breathing heavily. "Wow… You're… fast… as the devil… sweetie. I have… difficulty… climbing the stairs… these days. My knees… are so stiff. So please… be careful… sweetie. I wouldn't… want you… to fall. What… would I tell… your mother?"

Blaine's eyes widened. "Oh… I didn't think of that. I'll be careful, Mrs Delaney, I swear."

"Very well… then. Come. Your room… is this way."

Blaine followed Mrs Delaney into a room with one slanting wall and a window that looked out on the garden. He could even see the Anderson garden next door, with his bike thrown carelessly on the grass. _I should have brought my bike. Maybe Mrs Delaney will let me go fetch it tomorrow morning?_

The bed he would sleep in had a floral bedspread, which Mrs Delaney apologised for. "I gave all the boy bedspreads to my daughter-in-law when she gave birth to my grandson, so the floral ones are all I have left."

"I don't mind," Blaine said, patting the bedspread appreciatively. "I like it. And I like that picture on the wall. Who's that?"

Mrs Delaney squinted at the very lifelike painting of a teenage boy. "I really couldn't say, sweetie. The pictures all came with the house when Roger and I bought it. Most of the furniture too. I could of course have redecorated, but I really liked things the way they were. This picture just seems to belong here in the room, somehow. Same with the paintings on the landing and elsewhere in the house. They're so lovely, and they seem to be just in the right spot. So I'm not changing a thing."

"He's got a nice smile," Blaine mused. "His eyes are sad, though. I wish I knew why."

Mrs Delaney laughed. "He was probably sad that he had to stand still long enough for this portrait to be made. Don't worry your pretty little head over it. Let's go downstairs and I'll give you a snack to tide you over 'till dinner, okay?"

"Okay!" And Blaine was off like a shot again, Mrs Delaney following at a much slower pace.

That evening, after Mrs Delaney had tucked him into bed, Blaine had trouble falling asleep. He'd never slept anywhere else than in his own room, in his own bed, and he suddenly felt anxious and alone without his parents close by.

His eyes darted around the room, and the perfectly innocuous shadows of tree branches he saw on the walls suddenly seemed very spooky. He shivered, and was just about to hide under the blankets when he noticed the picture of the boy again. In the shadowy half-light, the boy didn't seem sad anymore. The smile on his face seemed a lot more genuine now, and very comforting.

Blaine smiled back. "Hey. I like you. I wish I knew your name."

Outside, the tree branches moved in the wind, and the moving shadows made it seem like the boy was winking at Blaine.

"You'll watch over me tonight, won't you? I feel a lot safer with you here."

Blaine yawned, tucked his hand under his cheek and was out like a light.

The next morning, he wondered why he'd ever thought the boy in the picture had a sad expression. The boy was smiling sunnily. The rays of sunlight hitting the painting made his eyes twinkle, and showcased their many colours.

"You have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen," Blaine told the boy while he was putting his shorts and T-shirt on.

Blaine slipped into his sandals, remarking off-handedly to the boy, "I'm so glad it's summer and I don't have shoelaces to tie. I hate them. I never manage to do them up all by myself, and then Dad screams at me for making him late and for always needing help, though I'm five already. What's so special about being five anyway that you're supposed to do everything yourself when you're five? I don't feel any different from when I was four, and nobody was yelling at me then."

Blaine bounced over to the window and beamed when he saw how blue the sky was.

"Well, I'm off," he announced cheerfully, with a wave at the boy in the picture. "Bye!"


	3. Chapter 2: Still Life

**Author's Note:**

 **Kurt's point of view again :-)**

Chapter 2: Still Life

If Kurt could have chosen where to spend his exile years, it would certainly have been with a family like the Delaneys, who were delightful people.

Their son Jake was a cheerful and popular child, who always had lots of friends over to play soccer in the yard.

Roger was hard-working, sweet and attentive towards his wife and a fun dad.

Grace was an excellent cook, a keen gardener and a bit of a chatterbox. While she was cleaning or dusting, she would talk to all the objects she put out of the way or went over with a damp rag or a duster. Kurt's portrait, too. And Kurt soon found out that was just what he needed.

When Sebastian had slammed him into the picture frame, Kurt had lost all mobility, and he had resigned himself to staying perfectly still for maybe centuries, until someone managed to save him or until he died, whichever came first. But as soon as Grace started talking to him, he felt his extremities tingle, and after Grace had left the spare bedroom, he tried moving his fingers and toes. He was thrilled to find out he could.

Kurt eagerly looked forward to the next cleaning day, hoping that Grace would be just as chatty as the week before and would further imbue him with her energy. She did, and now Kurt could smile and frown and pull silly faces again, and move his arms and legs.

It only took a month for Kurt to be fully mobile again, and then he started experimenting, jumping into other paintings in the house. There was a nature painting on the wall of the upstairs landing that he particularly liked, because it reminded him of home. At night, he'd lie down in the meadow, staring up at the stars. During the day, he'd go for long walks in the forest, where he knew he wouldn't be seen by the Delaneys.

He could hide in plain sight in the living room too. The painting there depicted a twilit street. The street lanterns were burning brightly, and people were hurrying both ways, wrapped up warmly against the cold and keeping their heads down, except for a few children window-shopping at the toy store, pointing eagerly to what they would like to get for Christmas. Kurt liked the shopping street, and loved doing some window-shopping of his own there.

In the kitchen, there was a cheerful painting of a table with a red-and-white chequered tablecloth in a well-tended garden, groaning under dish upon dish of festive summer food - chicken and potato salad, tomatoes with mozzarella, Charentais melon with Parma ham, watermelon and peaches and strawberries, and a coconut cake with lemon curd filling and icing. Kurt made sure not to disturb the table, but whenever he visited that painting, he conjured up some of that food for himself, because one look at it made him ravenous.

From the kitchen painting, he could look straight into the Delaney's garden. Grace spent all her spare time there, and had such green fingers that she won prize after prize for her roses and pumpkins. One year, a jealous competitor stole into the garden late at night to ruin Grace's pumpkins. When Kurt noticed the intruder, three giant pumpkins had already been demolished, and a fourth was well on its way to share their fate. Kurt summoned all his energy and sent a repair and protection charm into the garden, grateful that Grace always left the kitchen window open a crack. The ruined pumpkins restored themselves and resisted the axe of the intruder, making the metal bend and deform. The dark figure swore loudly and disappeared from the garden.

Kurt smiled in grim satisfaction. _Not on my watch!_

The years sped by, and unlike Kurt, who remained frozen at nineteen, the Delaneys grew older. Jake went to college, found a job as a paralegal and ended up marrying his immediate boss, Laura. They had one son, Todd, and tried for more children, but found to their regret that Todd's difficult delivery had made Laura sterile. Todd was the spitting image of Jake, and often stayed over at his grandparents', in the spare bedroom Kurt's portrait was in, seeing as Jake's room was used by Grace as a sewing room now.

Kurt watched Todd grow up and watched Grace and Roger grow a little slower, a littler greyer and a little stiffer every day, feeling a pang at the thought of this lovely couple dying and the house being put up for sale.

And then Roger died, suddenly, of a heart attack, and Grace was left alone. She didn't lose her smile, but it went a little brittle around the edges. She threw herself into volunteer work when her grandson went to high school and stopped staying over, and she took to babysitting an adorable little cherub that was the next door neighbours' youngest son.

"He's more than ten years younger than his brother," Grace confided to Kurt while cleaning the spare room, her movements still deft and methodical in spite of her age. "An afterthought. Probably even an accident. I don't think his parents wanted another child. They're certainly going out of their way to avoid spending time with him. He's only three months old. When Jake was that age, I had trouble letting anyone, even Roger, take my baby from me for a cuddle. I wanted him close to me the whole time. But Pam has asked me to babysit five times so far this week. And not just for an hour or so, to get a nap in or to get some grocery shopping done. No. Yesterday she brought him just after lunch and came to fetch him at nine o'clock in the evening. Maybe she's got post-partum depression? That would explain a lot. Anyway, I don't mind looking after Blaine. Not at all. He's a sweet darling and an absolute joy to look after. It's like having another grandson."

Grace's surrogate grandson kept coming around, and as the years went by, Kurt took to spending his days in the living room and the kitchen, because Grace was right - Blaine WAS an absolute joy. Always smiling brightly and chattering a mile a minute, always happy and content, always eager and interested, and an expert at wheedling yet another cookie or yet another game of happy families out of Grace, who was powerless against Blaine's puppy-dog eyes.

And then, one day, Blaine stayed the night at the Delaneys' house, and it shook Kurt up to the core.

So far, Kurt had seen Blaine, but had made sure the child would not notice him. Now, though, he'd be staying in the spare bedroom where Kurt's portrait was, and unlike Jake or Todd, who had never even glanced his way, Blaine spotted Kurt right away and asked Grace who he was, mentioning that Kurt had a nice smile, but sad eyes. As he spoke, Blaine looked straight at Kurt, who instantly felt an energy thrum through him that was a million times more powerful than the strength even Grace's lengthiest chats could provide. Blaine's sympathetic look and his words felt like a hug, somehow.

 _What is it about this boy?_

Grace, of course, didn't know Kurt's name, or why he looked sad, but Blaine was appeased with the promise of a snack before dinner, and hurried out of the room without looking back.

Around seven o' clock in the evening, Blaine came back upstairs with Grace to brush his teeth, put his pyjamas on and be tucked into bed.

Kurt smiled when Grace told Blaine the story of Goldilocks and the three bears, and Blaine asked, "But why did she run away? The bears sound so nice…"

Grace laughed. "I think she ran away because she knew she'd been naughty. She went into a stranger's house, ate their food, ruined Little Bear's chair and rumpled all of their bed linen."

"I don't think the bears were angry with her," Blaine insisted. "She could have stayed and played with Little Bear."

Grace laughed again and stroked over his hair. "Maybe. Oh, it's so nice to have you sleeping over. My grandson Todd used to stay over often, but now he's all grown up. Time goes by so fast."

Blaine smiled at her sleepily, and she closed the story book and stood up. "Good night, sweetie."

"Good night, Mrs Delaney," Blaine said politely.

Grace switched the light off and went back downstairs.

Blaine turned on his side and let out a big sigh. A few minutes later, he turned onto his back again, looking at the ceiling with a solemn expression, and was that a bit of anxiety as well?

 _Aww, it's probably the first time he sleeps away from home._

Now, Blaine turned to face the wall, and something he saw there made him shiver and bury himself deeper under the covers. Kurt summoned all his powers and sent Blaine the most comforting vibes he was capable of, and that seemed to work. Blaine zeroed in on Kurt and smiled at him, confessing that he'd like to know Kurt's name, and telling Kurt that his presence made him feel safer.

 _I'm glad. I wish I could talk to you._

The connection between them flared up again and zinged like an electric charge. Kurt had never felt this close to someone before, and it mystified him as much as it thrilled him.

 _Could it be? Is it possible that this human child is my soulmate?_


	4. Chapter 3: Hung Up

**Author's Note:**

 **This chapter follows Blaine growing up.**

Chapter 3: Hung Up

When Pam saw that Blaine had liked his sleep-over at their neighbour's house, she took to accompanying her husband more often, until Blaine's presence became a fixture at the Delaneys' during the weekend.

Grace was thrilled at this turn of events. Todd didn't come over regularly anymore, and Jake just popped in once a week to offer help with the grocery shopping or whatever else she needed, so without Blaine's company, she would have been very lonely. No wonder then that she looked forward to Fridays just as much as Blaine did, spent hours playing with him and spoiled him with French toast or pancakes for breakfast.

It was at Grace's house that Blaine first learnt to play the piano. Grace, who'd worked as an elementary school teacher before she got married, had an upright standing in the living room, and taught Blaine how to play a few children's songs. Blaine sang along merrily, and his eyes shone.

"I'm gonna ask Dad if we can have a piano at home, too," Blaine announced.

The next weekend, Blaine brought not only his overnight bag but a guitar.

"Dad said a piano took up too much space," Blaine explained. "But I like the guitar too."

"You're on your own there," Grace warned him. "I can only play the piano."

Blaine shrugged. "That's okay. Mom is making me take music lessons. Anyway, it's not hard. Listen."

And Blaine proceeded to play an entire song on his guitar.

"That was beautiful," Grace said.

Blaine beamed and followed her into the kitchen to serenade her while she made dinner.

Music became a recurring theme during the weekends, and Blaine took to sneaking his guitar into his room at bedtime to continue playing as soon as Grace was downstairs again and had turned the television on.

At night, Blaine experimented, trying out a succession of chords until he found a string that sounded pleasing, and instead of Grace, he serenaded the beautiful boy from the painting, who always smiled at him encouragingly.

Blaine knew that it was weird for him to be friends with an old woman and a boy that was nothing more than streaks of paint on a canvas, but he really didn't care. The weekends were easily his favourite part of the week. At school, he was teased for being too small and too shy and too polite. The way his mom dressed him, like a miniature businessman, but with a bowtie to give the outfit some flair, didn't help matters. "Grandpa Blaine", they called him, and they stomped on his shoes until they lost their shine and shoved him into puddles when it rained.

Blaine confided his woes to the painted boy, whose smile grew sympathetic and whose eyes became sad as Blaine told him of the bullying - or was that just Blaine's imagination?

Blaine always felt better after getting it all off his chest. It was as if saying it out loud made his worries and sorrows go away and left serenity and happiness instead, as well as courage to face another difficult week at school.

Blaine's dreams helped, too. Whenever he was staying over at his neighbour's, he would dream of the boy in the painting. Sometimes, they would go picnicking in a meadow with wildflowers like the painting on the landing showed and play tag afterwards. Other nights, the boy took Blaine by the hand and led him through a beautiful forest, telling him the names of the trees and the plants and the flowers, and all their uses. Mostly it was daytime in Blaine's dreams, but a few times they met at night and lay on their backs in the meadow, star-gazing. The boy knew not only the names of the stars, but all the stories behind them, and they were endlessly fascinating.

Blaine loved spending time with his friend, but learnt early on not to ask any personal questions. Whenever he did so, he woke up from his dream instantly. The first time that happened, all he did was ask, "What's your name?" In the blink of an eye, Blaine was back in bed, staring at the portrait on the wall with a bemused expression. He didn't dream of the boy again that night.

The next time his curiosity got the better of him, Blaine asked, "How old are you?" At once, his eyes flew open and encountered darkness instead of the sunny meadow he'd been in.

After that, Blaine became more careful, sharing freely about his life, but not asking his friend anything other than questions about mushrooms growing on trees and tracks left by animals. Still, he grew closer and closer to the mysterious boy, and felt disgruntled on the rare occasions his parents stayed at home during the weekend and didn't send him to Grace.

As the years went by, Blaine felt ever more like an outsider at school. He liked learning, especially about nature and science and maths. He was a model student, working hard in class, answering the teacher's questions, writing long essays and studying until he got near-perfect marks. The other boys mocked him for that, mimicking his enthusiastic behaviour in class in an exaggerated fashion and laughing, tripping and shoulder-checking him in the hallways, snatching his books out of his arms and his glasses off his nose and throwing them on the floor.

The turning point, however, came in the ninth grade, during the sex education classes, which were taught by a very young substitute teacher, Holly Holiday.

She took the whispering and giggling in stride and tackled the topic with boundless enthusiasm, explaining how boys' and girls' bodies changed during puberty, setting out the sex acts and going into detail about them, letting the students fumble through putting a condom on a banana, and stressing how important it was to practise safe sex by telling them all about sexually transmittable diseases, not leaving out the gory details.

And then, one week, she talked about sexual orientation and gender identity, and for Blaine, that was like a flash of lightning breaking through the clouds.

Yes, of course, THAT was why he'd blushed and stammered and turned down the girl who'd asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Yes, of course, that's why he couldn't take his eyes off teacher Martinez during his Spanish class. And finally, yes, of course, that was why he was so obsessed with the boy in the painting, who haunted his dreams. Because somehow, without even knowing his name, Blaine had managed to fall in love with him.

At the end of the lesson, Blaine waited until the other students had filed out of class and then let out a sigh that seemed to come all the way from his toes.

"You too?" Blaine heard behind him, and he turned his head so quickly he got a crick in his neck.

It wasn't one of his bullies, thankfully. It was Nigel, a new student, whose parents had moved to Westerville only weeks before.

Nigel smiled at him. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm gay too."

Blaine just blinked at him, not finding any words to say.

"I saw you turn down Leslie," Nigel continued. "For the dance."

Blaine dropped his gaze, studying the tips of his shoes with fascination.

"Want to go together?" Nigel asked. "Just as friends, obviously."

Blaine's head shot up, his mouth gaping. Nigel smiled again.

Blaine thought it over, and then nodded slowly. "Okay."

"It's next Friday, right?"

Blaine nodded again.

"Cool. My dad can pick us up after."

Nigel left the classroom, whistling.

Blaine followed, his head still whirling with questions and thoughts.

Blaine messed up again that weekend, while staying over at Grace's. In his dream, he was lying on a blanket on the grass with the painted boy, who was making a flower crown for Blaine. Blaine, his hand above his eyes to shade them from the sun, looked at his friend, soaking in all the details that made him stand out - his nose, his eyes, his hair, his freckles - and wondering how he could have gone so many years without realising what he felt for him. This had to be love, this feeling of utter helplessness and joy and fear all jumbled together. What else could it be?

"There, it's done," Blaine's friend said, and put the crown on Blaine's head, beaming at Blaine in satisfaction.

Blaine's stomach flopped, and Blaine found himself smiling back widely and reaching for his friend's hand to bestow a kiss on it.

 _I love you so much. Do you feel the same about me? Are you even…?_

And before Blaine had thought it through, he'd blurted out, "Are you gay?"

Instantly, he was back in bed, cursing himself out for ruining a wonderful dream. Because, yes, however real it all felt, Blaine could only share dreams with the boy he loved. And it was insane to be so hung up on a boy he could never truly be with, but hung up Blaine was.

Yes, maybe it was a good idea to go to the dance with Nigel. Even just as friends. Blaine liked the idea of having a friend that was neither a senior citizen nor a figment of his imagination. This dance would be fun.


	5. Chapter 4: Chiaroscuro

**Author's Note:**

 **Kurt's point of view. Warning: reference to the Sadie Hawkins gay-bashing.**

Chapter 4: Chiaroscuro

Kurt soon found out that Blaine noticing him, talking to him and sharing his energy with him was only the first in a whole series of surprises. As soon as Blaine fell asleep, he was somehow there with Kurt, tugging at his trousers and smiling up at him with a "Hello!"

Kurt took Blaine by the hand and jumped from his portrait to the meadow painting, where Blaine squealed in glee and started picking flowers straightaway. Kurt looked on, amused, as Blaine skipped around the meadow, humming and smiling and perfectly in his element, not even the slightest bit disturbed at finding himself in a strange place with someone he didn't know at all.

Blaine kept staying over at Grace's, and kept popping up wherever Kurt was as soon as he'd fallen asleep, so Kurt took to jumping into the meadow painting as soon as Blaine's eyes closed and his breathing evened out.

Kurt loved getting to spend time with Blaine, who was a bright and happy child and felt like the little brother Kurt had never had. Soon, Kurt started counting down the hours and days until the weekend night-time hours, and stopped thinking of all the years he'd spent in exile as squandered, because his banishment had brought him to Blaine.

It was good that Blaine had such a sunny disposition and was quick to find delight in even the smallest of things, because he often had sad tales to tell of not fitting in at school and being teased and bullied. Kurt took it upon him to cheer Blaine up and take his mind off school.

Kurt kept wondering if Blaine could be his soulmate. No-one else had ever connected with Kurt that way. Of course, Sebastian hadn't made it easy for Kurt to get too close to Blaine. As soon as Blaine asked something personal, even something as basic as Kurt's name, Blaine instantly disappeared from the meadow. The first time that happened, Kurt freaked out and thought that Sebastian had somehow kidnapped the child. But then Kurt jumped back into his portrait and saw Blaine in his bed, sitting bolt upright and looking rather disoriented.

Kurt heaved a sigh of relief and hoped that Blaine would keep his curiosity in check from then on. After one more faux pas, this time a question about Kurt's age, the boy seemed to understand, and years went by before Blaine made the same mistake again.

In the meantime, Blaine had grown from a sweet child into a shy teenager. No longer did Blaine take Kurt's hand or put his head on Kurt's lap or throw his arms around Kurt as soon as he saw his friend. Now, Blaine kept his distance, but Kurt kept catching him staring. Although it made his stomach somersault, Kurt never commented on that, and kept the conversation light.

And then, one day, Blaine kissed Kurt's hand impulsively, and blurted out, "Are you gay?"

In the blink of an eye, Blaine was gone, but Kurt didn't jump back into his portrait straightaway. Instead, he put a hand over his mouth to hide his enormous smile and he blinked back happy tears.

 _Yes, sweetheart, I'm gay too. And yes, I feel the same way about you._

K&B

The next weekend, Blaine didn't turn up at Grace's. Kurt wasn't immediately worried. Blaine's parents were rarely at home, but sometimes they liked to spend the weekend with their youngest son. Blaine was always disgruntled the weekend after, telling Kurt that his dad kept comparing him to his older brother, Cooper, and finding fault with him for being too short and too shy and not at all sporty - unlike Cooper, who'd been a jock and captain of the football team.

Kurt always encouraged Blaine to make an effort. "It's your dad, Blaine! Don't hide away in your room. Stay in the living room and watch a football match with him. You DO like football, you just don't like playing it yourself."

Blaine didn't respond well to Kurt's coaxing, either turning away with a sullen expression and refusing to speak, or pouting adorably at Kurt for not siding with him.

Kurt smiled, thinking of Blaine's disgruntled puppy-dog expression, and then sighed. He didn't begrudge Blaine's parents their time with their son, but he missed Blaine like crazy. He'd come to depend on him so much. Blaine was what made this entrapment bearable.

Another week went by, and Kurt counted down the days until Friday. His giddy anticipation of Blaine's arrival was dashed by Grace, however, when she came into Blaine's room to clean it. She looked older and more fragile than she ever had, and her hands trembled as she carefully dusted the shelves after vacuuming the room. She looked at Kurt and smiled sadly.

"Well," she said, "I might as well wash the duvet and put it on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Not much use in letting it gather dust on the bed."

Grace took her time separating the cover from the eiderdown, and stripped the pillow of its case too, smiling at the Star Wars pictures on the cover and pillow case.

"I remember him telling me about a new Star Wars movie and being so shocked when I said I'd never seen a single one of those movies. The next weekend, he showed up with a Bluray boxset and made me watch every single one of them. And then, for Christmas, I gave him this bed set. You should have seen his eyes light up. He was so pleased …"

Then, instead of leaving the room with the laundry, she sat down on the bed, put a hand in front of her eyes and cried.

Kurt's smile was long gone by now. What on earth was the matter?

And then Grace let out a deep sigh and looked up again. She encountered Kurt's stare and huffed out a laugh. "You're probably thinking what a weird old lady I am, aren't you? But that boy was so precious to me, and I'm going to miss him so much. I can't understand how anyone could do this to him. How could they hurt a sweet boy like that?"

Grace sniffled and took out her handkerchief to blow her nose.

Kurt was getting more and more agitated, and hoped she'd tell him some more about what had happened to Blaine. That was whom she was talking about, surely? "I'm going to miss him so much…" Surely… Surely, Blaine wasn't…

Grace slowly got up from the bed and gathered the bed linen. "I'm sure going to miss him staying over. Even if he pulls through, I probably won't see him again. Pam told me Edward pulled some strings to get Blaine into a posh boarding school as soon as he's discharged from the hospital. Knowing the Andersons, they'll have him stay there during the weekends, too. I'll have to wait for Christmas to come around to see Blaine again. If he comes home then, which isn't at all certain. Ah well, better sign up to volunteer at the hospital again, or else I won't know what to do with myself. Maybe I'll speak to Mary-Beth about leading wildflower walks for the National Parks Service in summer. I stopped with that when I got that hip replacement, but I can walk fine again now. I'm a bit slower than before, but I'm sure people won't mind."

Grace sighed again, put out the light and went out of the room.

Kurt's heart felt like lead.

 _Blaine's in hospital? And he might not make it? Is there any way I can reach him? Help him?_

Kurt closed his eyes and focused on the thread of awareness that had connected him with Blaine ever since Blaine had talked to him that very first time. Kurt let it fill him up and invade his senses, this tangible proof that Blaine was still there, and as soon as Kurt felt calm enough, he used the connection to send Blaine all his strength, energy and love.

 _Please come back to me, Blaine. Please._


	6. Chapter 5: Negative Space

**Author's Note:**

 **This chapter is from Blaine's point of view. Warning: non-graphic description of the Sadie Hawkins gay-bashing and description of Blaine's injuries.**

Chapter 5: Negative Space

When Friday rolled around, Blaine was excited about the dance, and thrilled that he had finally found a friend at school. Nigel was nice. They'd sat next to each other in several classes that week, they'd had lunch together and they had swapped telephone numbers. Blaine liked Nigel's dry sense of humour and the funny doodles he drew on his class notes.

"So my mom and I will come pick you up for the dance at around six thirty," Nigel said when they parted ways when school let out. "And after, my dad will come and fetch us, and bring you home. That all right?

Blaine beamed and nodded. "Okay. See you then!"

Pam was just as enthusiastic as Blaine about the dance, and had bought him a truly magnificent black tux and then taken him to a tailor to adjust the tux until it fit Blaine like a glove. She was taking pictures of Blaine in his dance outfit when the doorbell rang.

Blaine had only told her that his dance partner was going to pick him up, no particulars, so when Pam beat Blaine to opening the door and saw Nigel standing there, her eyes widened and her mouth went slack for a moment.

"Good evening, ma'am," Nigel said, beaming. "My name is Nigel. I've come to pick up Blaine."

Pam shot a quick, panicked look in the direction of Edward's study, but then rearranged her face into a smile. "Hello! Blaine just needs to put on his coat and his scarf, and then he's ready to go."

Blaine, who was putting his coat on already, rolled his eyes at Pam. "Mom, it's not THAT cold. I'm not putting on a scarf."

"Blaine, you'll be out after ten, and it will be very cold then, so you're not leaving the house without a scarf."

Nigel laughed. "My mom told me the exact same thing just now. Better put it on, Blaine. Come on, let's go!"

"You'll have Blaine back home by eleven?" Pam asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Nigel promised. "The dance is from seven 'till ten, so Blaine should be home by ten thirty at the latest."

Blaine kissed his mom on the cheek. "Bye, Mom!"

K&B

Blaine had a blast dancing with Nigel and singing along to the songs. He saw Leslie and her friends side-eye him and whisper, and he saw the jocks glare at him and Nigel, but he dismissed that and concentrated on enjoying the dance. He could worry later about the bullying that was sure to come his way.

Just before ten o'clock, Nigel sent his dad a text that they were ready to go home, and Blaine and Nigel went outside to wait for Nigel's dad in the parking lot, chatting about the latest episode of _The Flash_.

All of a sudden, Blaine's happy bubble was pricked when he heard a voice behind him that belonged to his most persistent bully, Keith. "Enjoying yourself, fags?"

Blaine whirled around, and his blood froze in his veins when he saw not just Keith, but the entire football team, baseball bats in their hands and murder in their eyes. Keith grabbed Blaine by the scruff of his neck, lifting him up as though he weighed nothing.

"Run, Nigel!" Blaine screamed. "Run!"

Then something hit his head, hard, and he blacked out.

K&B

Blaine was floating, floating, floating… Every sound he heard was ricocheting so much he could hardly make sense of it. People were talking to him, he knew they were, but it was so hard to focus. All he could distinguish was the emotion behind the words.

At first, there was anger. Fury, even. So much of it that it made his head hurt, and his entire body.

Then, there was shock, and panic, and the voices went up really high and talked really quickly. It made Blaine's heart beat faster, fluttering anxiously like a captured bird.

After that followed relative quiet. There was only one voice barking out what seemed like orders and a few hushed murmurs in reply.

More quiet followed. The only thing Blaine could hear now was a steady beeping sound that lulled him to sleep.

His next moment of awareness started with anger again, one voice shouting loudly, and another frantically shushing it. A door slammed, and then there was sobbing. Endless sobbing. Blaine's heart squeezed in sympathy, and he wanted to reach out and comfort that heart-broken person, but he found he could not move. He couldn't even feel his arms or legs. He was still floating, and his head was whirling, lights and colours flashing in front of his eyes and making him feel dizzy and nauseous. Blaine tried to hold as still as possible, and eventually, that worked, and he slipped back into mindless oblivion.

What woke him the second time wasn't noise of any kind. It was a wave of energy that swept through him, and that made him feel, for a moment, as if he could conquer the world if he so chose. Or, well, open his eyes, at the very least, which seemed a daunting task already.

There was an undercurrent of something else, too, a warm feeling that enveloped him and made him feel safe and wanted.

And then Blaine heard a voice in his head, clear and high and beautiful. "Please come back to me, Blaine. Please."

Blaine's eyes flew open at once, but he didn't see the beautiful painted boy this voice belonged to. Instead, he found himself in an empty room, with white walls and fluorescent lighting that was way too bright. All around him, machines were beeping away, and when he tried to sit up, pain shot through him immediately, and wires attached to him were pulled taut and kept him from going any further.

Groaning, Blaine let his head sink back onto the pillow and closed his eyes to protect them from the unforgiving glare of the lights.

Some time later, Blaine heard footsteps coming in his direction, and two people talking. Nurses, it seemed.

"So I did most patients already. There's only the Anderson kid left for you to do. Still out cold, so it won't go like that Tottenham woman, thank god!"

"Why, what happened with Mrs Tottenham?"

"She pulled her IV out and clobbered me with her arm cast when I tried to put it in again. She's nearly ninety and looks like a sweet old lady, but look out for her! She's anything but sweet. Got a nasty right hook."

"Noted. Well, good night, and I'll see you on Monday, I guess?"

"Monday, yes. Night, Carole!"

Blaine heard one of the nurses leave, and moments later, the door to his room opened.

"Hello, Blaine. Let's turn you a bit, so that you don't get bedsores. Oh, and you'll need a new IV bag. I'll see to that right away."

As two hands gripped him softly but firmly by the waist, Blaine blinked and opened his eyes. The nurse was smiling at him, but she did a double-take and let out a scream when she saw Blaine had his eyes open. She put her hand to her heart and laughed.

"Oh… You gave me quite a scare, sweetie. Did you just wake up?"

Blaine wanted to say yes, but all that came out of his mouth was a hoarse croak.

"You're probably parched," the nurse said. "I'll get you some ice chips."

When the nurse came back with a solo cup filled with ice chips, she adjusted the bed so that Blaine was half-lying, half-sitting.

Blaine wanted to hold out his right hand for the cup, but found that it was in a cast held up by a wire. He flicked his eyes to his other hand, and found that three fingers of that hand were in a cast, too. He frowned in frustration.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I'll do it. You stay still and focus on getting better."

The nurse held a piece of ice to his lips, and Blaine took it and sucked on it eagerly. That felt good.

"Thank you."

It still came out hoarse, but now Blaine was at least understandable.

"You're very welcome, sweetie." The nurse smiled at him again, and put the cup on his nightstand. "Let's get you turned on your side now."

As she worked, the nurse kept up a steady flow of chatter. "My name's Carole, by the way, and you're in hospital, but I'm sure you guessed that already. You'll be here for a while longer, I'm afraid. So many broken bones. Not to mention the blood loss and the internal damage. Your spleen. Your lung. When they brought you in, it was touch and go for quite some time. But I guess you're a fighter, sweetie. Gosh, you look young. Younger than my son, I think. Finn's fifteen. How old are you?"

"Fourteen," Blaine croaked.

"You're in the eighth grade?" Carole asked.

Blaine shook his head and then grimaced and groaned. Ow, that hurt!

"No? Ninth grade, then," Carole inferred.

Blaine made to nod and then thought better of it. "Yes."

Carole smiled. "Finn's a year older, then. He goes to William McKinley High School, in Lima. He's the quarterback of the football team."

Blaine grimaced, thinking of Keith, who was the quarterback at his school.

Carole sighed. "Yes, I guess that doesn't impress you much. They were football players, right? The boys that beat you up so badly? My Finn would never do that. Not that you'll believe me. Oh, sweetie, it makes me so sad that there are people who would do this to you."

Carole finished her work in silence. Then, after asking Blaine if he wanted more ice chips or more pain medication, she left the room.

K&B

The next day, Pam came to visit Blaine. She seemed very relieved that he'd woken up, and told Blaine that he'd never have to go back to Westerville South High School. "You're going to Dalton Academy. There's a strict anti-bullying policy there, so you won't ever get hurt again."

Then she burst into tears. Blaine watched her mutely, wishing he could comfort her, but not knowing what to say, and of course, hugs were out of the question.

The sobbing didn't let up, and Blaine, grasping for something to say, anything, went with, "Where's Dad?"

That stopped the crying jag, but Blaine didn't like the panicky look now surfacing on his mom's face any better.

Pam took a tissue from her handbag and blew her nose. Then she sat up a little straighter and took what little of Blaine's hand wasn't covered in gauze and plaster. "Blaine, honey, your father didn't take it well that you were… well… are… gay. He's agreed to pay for Dalton Academy so that you'll be safe for the rest of your high school years, but…"

Blaine waited for his mom to finish her sentence, but she didn't, so he prompted, "But?"

Pam sighed. "But he would only agree to that if you stayed at Dalton during the weekends and the school vacations too. He… He doesn't want to see you anymore. I'm so sorry, honey."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not, Mom. It's not like I'm ever at home during the weekends now. I'm always at Grace's. So it's not going to make much of a difference. And I can't say I'm surprised, either. Dad never wanted me in the first place. He's always and forever finding fault with me for not being like Cooper."

Pam looked stricken. "Blaine, that's…"

"The truth, Mom, you can't deny it," Blaine insisted. "My point is, I'll be fine at that new school. Don't worry. And if Dad doesn't want to see me and you do, I can come and stay over at Grace's, and you can visit."

Pam tilted her head to the side. "Aren't you getting a bit old for that?"

Blaine frowned. "Old for what? For keeping Grace company when no-one else does? Mom, she's my friend! I love her as if she were my own grandma!"

"She's not, though," Pam countered. "And she's getting on in years. She likes you visiting her and sleeping over, yes, but are you sure it's not too taxing for her?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Mom, Grace is not an invalid. And I help her with everything. The grocery shopping, the cooking, the dishes, the laundry, the cleaning and the garden. I'm a big help. Grace says so all the time."

Pam pursed her lips, but didn't argue further. Instead, she changed the subject. "The doctors say you'll have to stay here for another six weeks at the least. So you'll be missing a lot of school. But the Dalton headmaster said they have tutors for pretty much every subject, so they should be able to get you back up to speed, if you work hard. But you always do, honey, don't you?"

Blaine smiled. "I do. I'll work hard, Mom, I promise."

K&B

Half a week later, Blaine was so sick and tired of lying in bed all day and not being able to do anything for himself that he whooped in joy when Carole announced that the hospital volunteers would be making their rounds the next day to keep the patients entertained. Whoever Blaine got and whatever that person wanted to do would be so much better than staring at that one crack in the ceiling that vaguely resembled Darth Vader.

The following afternoon, Blaine was overjoyed when he heard a knock on the door and saw Grace walk in.

Grace answered his smile with one of her own, but it disappeared quickly when she took a good look at him. "Oh, Blaine, sweetie…"

"Please don't cry," Blaine pleaded. "I'll be fine, I promise."

Grace blinked back her tears. "Well, when I signed up to volunteer at the hospital again, I wasn't expecting you to be one of the patients I'd be entertaining. But I'm glad, sweetie, I'm glad."

Grace gently patted Blaine's left arm, rummaged in her handbag and took out the new issue of Vogue with a "Ta-da!"

Blaine grinned happily. "Yay!"

"I haven't read it yet," Grace confided to Blaine. "It just didn't feel right, going through the magazine without dissecting everything with you. And especially this issue, see, there's two pages all about bowties!"

They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and laughing, and before Grace left, Blaine made her promise to come back soon, as a volunteer or as a visitor.

The weeks that followed brought more interminable boredom, and Blaine always looked forward to Grace's visits and to Carole's upbeat presence as his night nurse.

When finally, his bones were healed enough to leave off the casts, his arms and legs felt like cooked spaghetti, and he wobbled out of the hospital on crutches and feeling like a toddler learning to walk.

"You'll be back for physical therapy," Pam said. "Wednesdays and Fridays. I'll come fetch you, and I'll bring you back to Dalton afterwards. Dalton's actually not far from the hospital, and there's a bus stop right at the entrance of the school, but as long as you're walking with those crutches, public transport isn't a good idea. Those bus drivers drive like maniacs."

Blaine hummed distractedly, and then, when his mother's words sank in, he turned his head towards her, eyes wide. "What? I'm going straight to Dalton? We're not going home first?"

Pam sighed. "Blainey, I did explain things to you, didn't I?"

"Yes, you said Dad didn't want to see me, but I didn't think that meant I could never come home again! All my stuff is there! My guitar, my clothes, my music, my books…"

"Blaine, honey, what did you think it meant?" Pam asked softly.

Blaine swallowed. "Well, that I'd come home while Dad was on a business trip. You know he takes loads of those."

Pam shook her head sadly. "Edward said you weren't welcome under his roof anymore."

Blaine's mouth fell open. "But what about my stuff?"

"I brought everything to your room at Dalton already," Pam assured him. "It will be your home away from home."

Blaine stared at her, aghast. That meant he'd be staying at Dalton all year round, during the school holidays, too, without ever going home. So when was he ever going to stay over at Grace's again? He longed to see the painted boy again, and dream about him. It had been so long already.

 _Is Mom right? Am I too old for this? Should I make a clean break of it and never think of my imaginary friend again? The thing is, he doesn't feel imaginary in the least… I don't think I could dream up anyone that perfect._

The thought of never seeing his friend again was painful. More painful than anything he'd felt in the past weeks. No, he couldn't do this. He really couldn't. He'd have to find a way to go visit Grace and then charm her into letting him stay over.

First things first, though. There was a new school and a dorm room to get acquainted with, not to mention new classmates. So Blaine squared his shoulders, got out of his mother's car and hobbled towards Dalton Academy's main building with a determined look on his face. _I can do this!_


	7. Chapter 6: Vanishing Point

**Author's Note:**

 **This chapter is from Kurt's point of view again. Warning for an OC having a stroke.**

Chapter 6: Vanishing Point

The next time Grace came in to clean Blaine's room, she didn't look as sad as before, and she readily shared her news with Kurt. "He's wrapped in so many bandages and wearing so many casts that you can barely see it's Blaine anymore. But he's awake, and there won't be any lasting damage, the nurses say, so that's good news."

Grace lifted up one of the porcelain figures on the window sill to go over it with her feather duster, and put it back carefully.

"I'm going back tomorrow," Grace announced. "I don't think he's getting many visitors. He seemed so pleased to see me, and so eager to read Vogue with me. I think he's bored out of his mind. And it's not like I have anything better to do. I miss Blaine around the house."

K&B

The following weeks crawled by at an exasperating pace, and Kurt kept vacillating between being glad that Blaine was okay and eagerly counting off the days until he returned, and panicking about Blaine never coming to visit Grace (and Kurt) again.

Blaine had told Grace that he wasn't welcome at the Andersons' anymore. Grace had been furious about that. "You'd think after nearly losing their son, they'd make more of an effort to spend time with him. But no! That man refuses to see his own son again! Sends him away to a boarding school like an unwanted cat to an animal shelter! And just because he likes boys. My Roger would NEVER have made an issue of that. But Edward has always been an uptight stick-in-the-mud. He doesn't DESERVE a son like Blaine. And Pam should speak up and not let her husband decide something like that as if she has no say in the matter. Blaine is her son, too."

Then, one Wednesday, Grace came back from the hospital with a sad look on her face. Kurt, hiding in the living room painting, wondered what the matter was. Kurt found out two days later, when Grace made her cleaning rounds. "I was too late to say goodbye to Blaine. I knew he'd be discharged from the hospital this Wednesday, but I figured Pam would pick him up in the afternoon, seeing as she takes ashtanga yoga classes on Wednesday morning. But I was there at ten in the morning, and Blaine was already gone. The nurse said his mom had come for him at seven o'clock. Said that Blaine shouldn't be missing any more school."

Grace scoffed. "As if that boy couldn't catch up with the rest of them in two seconds flat. He's so bright, and he's such a hard worker. Ah well, she couldn't wait to get rid of him, I suppose. But I'm sad I missed him. Heavens knows when I'm going to see him next. If I'm ever going to see him again. Why would he come visit me now? He'll probably make lots of friends his age at that school, and forget about me."

Grace sighed. "Well, I'll better go prepare dinner. It's a bit early, but I woke up at five o'clock this morning and I'm hungry again already. I went grocery shopping yesterday and bought all the ingredients to make lasagne the way Blaine likes it, and it wasn't until I got home that I realised Blaine wouldn't be staying over this weekend, and that I'll have to eat all that lasagne by myself. I wonder if I can freeze a few portions. Can you freeze lasagne? Blaine would know how to look that up on the internet for me."

Grace went downstairs, and Kurt followed her by jumping into the kitchen painting, eager for more news, even if it wasn't of the Blaine variety. Sure enough, Grace, now talking to a picture of her late husband, was updating him on her friend Dorothy's cancer scare, the patients she'd visited at the hospital and the cashier at the supermarket, whose daughter was expecting her first child any day now.

Grace popped the dish in the oven and went to the living room to read the newspaper while waiting for the lasagne to be done. Kurt jumped into the shopping street painting to be with her.

Just before the oven timer was set to ping, though, the doorbell rang. Grace looked up in surprise, took off her reading glasses and got up to answer the door, muttering, "Who could that be? Jake took me grocery shopping yesterday, so it can't be him."

As soon as the door opened, a gleeful voice shouted, "Surprise!"

"Blaine! Oh, you shouldn't have…"

Grace came back into the living room, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in her hands and Blaine hobbling behind her, on crutches.

"I had to go to the hospital for my physical therapy appointment," Blaine explained. "Mom was supposed to bring me, but she couldn't make it, so I took the bus. And I wanted to come and thank you for visiting me at the hospital so many times. I really appreciated that, so thank you!"

"Oh, sweetie, you're very welcome! I'm so glad you're out of hospital. How's your new school? You must stay for lunch and tell me all about it! I made lasagna, that's your favourite."

Blaine beamed and made his way to the kitchen. Kurt, instead of jumping into the kitchen painting straightaway, took a moment to wipe away a few happy tears and freak out silently about the scar that Blaine now had just above his eye - thank heavens those bullies hadn't aimed an inch lower or Blaine might have lost his eyesight!

When Kurt found his way to the kitchen painting again, Grace was arranging the bouquet in a vase, and Blaine was filling Grace in about Dalton Academy, and how he'd already been recruited for the school's show choir by a boy named Wes. He had a single room, seeing as he'd transferred in the middle of the school year, but the boys in the room next to his had invited him over to play video games the night before.

Grace patted Blaine's hand, and gave him a helping of lasagna, which Blaine proceeded to wolf down as if he hadn't eaten in days. "I'm glad you're settling in well, sweetie. I'm going to miss you, though. I liked having you around during the weekends."

Blaine wiggled on his chair, his eyes going wide and pleading. "Well, actually… If you don't mind, I'd like to come and sleep over here every now and then. I like my new school, but there's no place like home. And your house feels more like home than my parents' place ever did. I've spent more time here than I ever have next door."

Grace pursed her lips, considering. "That's true, but… Are you sure your parents won't mind?"

Blaine shook his head. "Mom said I could stay over at a friend's place on the weekends or during the school vacations. She said that was okay. And you're a friend, so..."

Grace laughed. "I'm pretty sure Pam had a school friend in mind, sweetie. Someone your own age. But I'm not going to say no to that. I love having you over."

Blaine grinned happily. "That's settled, then. After school this afternoon, I'll pack an overnight bag and come straight back here."

"Oh, that's right, it's a school day," Grace said, and then frowned. "You're skipping school?"

"I have permission to go to the hospital on Wednesday and Friday mornings, for my physical therapy. It's only twelve o'clock now. I'll be back in plenty of time for my afternoon classes if I leave now. There's a bus in about ten minutes."

"Well, better get going, then," Grace advised him. "Chop, chop! You're not as fast on those crutches as you usually are!"

Blaine sent her a dazzling parting smile, put his coat back on and left with a cheery, "See you later!"

Grace sank back onto her chair, smiling and shaking her head. "That boy knows all too well how to get his way. But he's right - he shouldn't be spending his weekend at that school when he's very welcome here."

K&B

That night, Blaine was finally back in his room at Grace's, and Kurt couldn't keep from beaming ear to ear when Blaine winked at him before hopping into bed.

Blaine took quite some time to fall asleep, though, tossing and turning. At long last, his breathing evened out, and Kurt jumped into the meadow just in time for Blaine to come barrelling into him, throwing his arms around Kurt and hugging him as if he'd never let him go. Kurt revelled in the closeness, and let a few tears escape, hugging Blaine back for all he was worth.

When they stepped away from each other, Blaine's eyes were glistening wetly too.

"Blaine," Kurt sighed happily. "I'm so glad you're back."

Blaine grinned and took him by the hand to walk to the quiet forest glade Blaine loved to go to when he had a lot to tell Kurt. Kurt couldn't keep himself from glancing at their joint hands every few seconds, his stomach swooping and his heart nearly bursting out of his chest.

The hand-holding was a familiar gesture from Blaine's childhood. When Kurt and Blaine first met, Blaine had been a cuddle-bug. Kurt had mourned the loss of Blaine's spontaneous affection when teenage Blaine became more distant and too self-conscious to touch Kurt. Now, the hug and the hand-holding felt new all over again, and Kurt thrilled to it.

They let their hands swing between them, and didn't let go when they reached the glade. Kurt liked how self-confident Blaine seemed to have become in those weeks he'd been absent, and liked hearing about Blaine's new school and how he'd managed to make friends already in the two days he'd been there.

Kurt knew he had to be smiling like a maniac, but he really couldn't help it. He felt happier than he'd been in years, and he had to remind himself to actually listen to what Blaine was saying instead of letting it just wash over him and staring at Blaine instead - his eyes shining brightly, his hands waving about to illustrate a point, his beautiful laugh.

Too late, Kurt realised that Blaine had fallen silent and was quirking an eyebrow at him and smirking. "Have you heard anything of what I just said?"

Kurt blushed. "I'm sorry… I'm just… I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

 _There. That works as an explanation. I can hardly tell him he's so mesmerising I can't take my eyes off him, now, can I?_

Blaine smiled at him warmly, his eyes crinkling, and squeezed Kurt's hand. "I've missed you too. So much."

K&B

Kurt was relieved to find that Blaine's visit wasn't a one-time thing. Like clockwork, Blaine arrived on Grace's doorstep at 5 PM every Friday night, and he only left late in the afternoon on Sundays.

Grace was ecstatic to have Blaine back, and so was Kurt, who grew closer to Blaine every night he stayed over.

Dalton proved good for Blaine. He made loads of friends there, and some of them were gay too. He excitedly told Kurt about Nick and Jeff, who were dating openly, and no-one in the whole school gave them a hard time because of that.

The schoolwork was challenging, but Blaine thrived on it, and the show choir, dubbed the Warblers, offered him a creative outlet and a chance to shine: from Blaine's sophomore year onwards, Blaine was their frontman.

That year, Blaine's singing got them through to Nationals for the first time in twenty years, where they placed fifth. Blaine grinned widely when he told Kurt about it, and picked Kurt up to whirl him around in celebration.

Blaine was fully back to his affectionate self now. No more trace of self-consciousness. No more hesitation whatsoever. He was always touching Kurt and cuddling up to him, invading Kurt's personal space any chance he got - not that Kurt minded…

Blaine looked at Kurt openly now, too. No more furtive glances. Sometimes, Blaine looked at Kurt in awe and admiration, as though he was the most beautiful piece of art he'd even seen. At other moments, he looked at Kurt hungrily, as if he wanted to devour him, his eyes lingering on Kurt's lips. Each time that happened, Kurt's hands started sweating and his heart hammered and he hoped with all his might that maybe this time, Blaine would kiss him. But Blaine never did. He always lowered his eyes and smiled a little and looked away, leaving Kurt frustrated.

And then, Blaine's junior year started, and a new name cropped up in the conversation: Sebastian Smythe. The first time Blaine mentioned him, Kurt stared at him in abject terror for a moment before he managed to force his face into a neutral expression again. Surely, this couldn't be a coincidence? Somehow, Sebastian must have found out about Blaine. Did that mean Blaine actually was Kurt's soulmate? And that Sebastian was trying to win Blaine over to ruin Kurt's chances of ever getting out of that painting that served as his prison?

Sebastian was posing as a transfer student from Paris. He'd singled Blaine out from the moment he laid eyes on him and pursued him relentlessly. Blaine confessed to Kurt that, though he was a bit taken aback by Sebastian's forwardness, he did like the attention, and he liked how worldly and experienced Sebastian was. "There's so much he could teach me. I only wish he wasn't so crude. Maybe it's silly, but I want my firsts to MEAN something."

Kurt's heart quaked every time Blaine left for school again at the end of the weekend, and he found himself dreading the conversation about Blaine's first kiss with Sebastian, which he was sure would come any day now.

 _And then what's to become of me?_

In November, Blaine skipped a weekend, telling Grace on the phone that there was a party at Dalton on Saturday, so he'd be staying there. Grace relayed the information while cleaning Blaine's room, and Kurt felt devastated. Surely now, Sebastian would kiss Blaine. Maybe they'd do even more. Maybe they'd become boyfriends. And Blaine would forget all about Kurt.

That Saturday night, Kurt kept waiting to suddenly feel different, lighter and emptier somehow, when his link with Blaine would disappear. He hid in the kitchen painting, trying to distract himself by listening to Grace, who was washing the dishes and talking a mile a minute to the photograph of her husband.

Suddenly, Grace fell silent. Her face went blank, and she sank to the ground, unconscious.

Kurt looked on in horror.

 _Blaine! Grace needs Blaine! Will he be able to get here in time? I don't know. But she needs help, so I must try._

So Kurt, once again, centred his energy and tugged with all his might at the connection that bound him to Blaine and tried to convey a sense of urgency and need.

 _Blaine! Please come! Grace needs you!_


	8. Chapter 7: Artifice

**Author's Note:**

 **Blaine's adventures at Dalton :-) Warning for boys fighting.**

Chapter 7: Artifice

For Blaine, who had never fit in at any school he'd ever gone to, it was a revelation how much Dalton suited him. The curriculum was much harder than at Westerville South High School, but the teachers were dedicated and brilliant at their job, and they helped Blaine find tutors for every subject he needed to catch up on.

No-one at Dalton laughed at Blaine for studying and working hard, because that was the norm rather than the exception, and no-one asked questions about his battered and bruised appearance, or why he'd suddenly turned up in the middle of the school year. Instead, everyone was welcoming to a fault, showing him around, lending him course notes and inviting him to sit with them at dinner or visit them in their rooms to watch a movie or play video games.

On his first day, Blaine started humming while doing his homework in the common room, and the others didn't tell him to shut up, but started to harmonise, which led to Blaine belting out the song as if he were in his bedroom at home, jumping onto the furniture and totally dorking out. That made a few people whoop excitedly, and then they joined in. A tall black boy did backflips, a blonde boy started breakdancing, and a sudden influx of newcomers filled the common room to overflowing. They bopped along, and clapped and cheered when Blaine stopped singing.

"Who's your new singer, Wes?" one of them asked.

"I was just about to ask," Blaine heard someone say behind him. He whirled around and saw a boy about his height, with spiky black hair and a lopsided grin. Blaine smiled back hesitantly.

"Hey, I'm Wes," the boy introduced himself, sticking his hand out for Blaine to shake.

"I'm Blaine," Blaine said.

"Welcome to Dalton, Blaine! Were you in show choir at your previous school?"

Blaine shook his head. There had been no such thing as a show choir at Westerville South.

"Well, I'm the head of the Warblers, our show choir. And I think I speak for everyone when I say we'd love to have you join us. You have a great voice. What do you say?"

Blaine looked around and saw nothing but enthusiasm and nodding heads. "O… Okay."

A loud cheer went up, and Blaine got several pats on the back. Grinning, he went back to the essay he was writing.

 _I could get used to this…_

K&B

Though Pam had promised to take Blaine to the hospital for his physical therapy appointments, she never did. That first Friday, she called to tell him she was swamped with work. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. You can call a cab instead, I'll put some extra money into your account, okay?"

Blaine did no such thing, taking the bus and choosing to spend the money on a lovely bouquet of flowers for Grace instead, to thank her for her many visits during his hospital stay. He managed to convince Grace that his weekend sleep-overs didn't have to stop now that he was boarding at Dalton, and kept coming to visit her during the weekends. Grace welcomed her surrogate grandson with open arms every time, preparing his favourite meals, working in the garden alongside him and playing Scrabble with him in the evenings.

Grace spoke with her son about Blaine, and Jake dropped in at Grace's one Saturday to talk to Blaine, to assure him the Delaneys considered him family and he was welcome whenever he liked. "And hey… Mom's told me your dad's out of the picture, so… If you need to talk about… guy stuff, or if you need someone to teach you how to drive, or how to shave, or anything like that, I'm here for you."

When Blaine stammered out a thank you, Jake clapped him on the back. "You're a good kid. Mom's much happier when you're around, and you help out a lot. Thanks for being there for her when I can't be."

With Jake's encouragement, Blaine got his mom to sign the permission slip for a learner's permit, and passed his written test with flying colours. Jake gave him driving lessons every other Saturday, and like everything Blaine put his mind to, he picked it up in no time, taking Grace grocery shopping and driving her to the hospital for her volunteer shifts on Saturdays.

A few days after Blaine's sixteenth birthday, Jake and Laura and Todd all came to Grace's for the birthday party, and with a grin, Jake led Blaine to the driveway, where he'd parked a red Ford Fiesta behind Grace's Tesla.

"Todd's old car. All yours, kid, as soon as you've got your driver's license!"

Blaine beamed from ear to ear and took his wallet out of his back pocket. "I got it yesterday!"

K&B

Though Blaine now had plenty of friends at Dalton, there was still no-one he felt closer to than the boy from the portrait. The weekend nights were still red-letter occasions for Blaine, no matter how much his school life had improved. Now that he'd realised he was in love with the painted boy, he allowed himself to get closer again whenever he dreamt about the boy, because he found he craved being near him and touching him. His friend seemed to enjoy how tactile Blaine was, readily returning hugs and entwining their fingers when Blaine took his hand, though never taking the initiative. That made Blaine hold back, though he really wanted to kiss the boy at times.

On Blaine's first day as a junior, a new student showed up in his classes and joined the Warblers, too. His name was Sebastian Smythe, and though he was a few months younger than Blaine, he seemed decades older in experience and sophistication. He'd transferred to Dalton from a prestigious school in Paris, and he told the Warblers and anyone else who would listen about the City of Lights and the many ways in which it was superior to this backwards town in the middle of nowhere.

In Paris, apparently, teenagers could buy alcohol without anyone batting an eyelid. They were also less inhibited where sex was concerned, talking about it freely and experimenting from a young age.

"You Americans are all such prudes," Sebastian added, his lip curling in disdain.

Blaine was torn between admiring Sebastian for being multilingual and clearly a man of the world, and disliking him for acting like he was so much better than the rest of them.

To Blaine's surprise, Sebastian was interested in Blaine from day one, sitting next to him in class, talking more to him than to anyone else, invading Blaine's personal space so often and so blatantly that it made Blaine feel uncomfortable, and hinting heavily that he'd like to show Blaine 'a good time'.

Blaine wondered why Sebastian wanted him, of all people. There were plenty of good-looking gay and bi seniors at Dalton, all of them a lot beefier and taller than Blaine, and undoubtedly more experienced too. Several of them were on the polo team with Sebastian, and weren't shy about expressing their interest. Yet Sebastian turned them all down and clearly set his sights on Blaine.

Blaine couldn't help but feel flattered, though a snide voice in his head kept telling him Sebastian probably just liked the chase and got off on the idea that Blaine was still a virgin.

That belief was cemented when he mentioned Sebastian's name to the painted boy and, for a few seconds, the boy completely froze up in fear and looked at Blaine with haunted eyes. The moment passed quickly, but Blaine noticed his friend's smiles seemed a little forced the rest of that night.

The following weekends, Blaine watched his friend like a hawk any time he brought up Sebastian, and the painted boy always reacted with a visible twitch and terror in his eyes. Yes, clearly, there was history there. Or if Blaine's dreams about the painted boy were just a figment of his imagination, it was clearly Blaine's subconscious warning him against Sebastian. Whatever it was, Blaine let it fuel his resolve to resist Sebastian's advances and hold out for true love.

The second Saturday of November, Dalton organised a mixer dance with its sister school Crawford Country Day, and the Warblers as well as the Crawford's Nightingales were providing the music. Blaine, as the Warbler's frontman, was expected to stay at Dalton and sing, so he called Grace and explained why he wouldn't be coming over that weekend.

The dance went well, though Blaine praised himself lucky that he was singing nearly the whole time. The first time he took a break, the Crawford girls instantly swarmed towards him, asking him to dance, offering him drinks, slipping him their phone numbers, flirting with him and batting their fake eyelashes at him until one of Blaine's friends managed to distract them long enough for Blaine to hide under the refreshments table, where he stayed until the Nightingales stopped singing and the Warblers were up again.

When after a few songs, the Nightingales took over once more, Sebastian was there before the Crawford girls could get to him, and asked Blaine to dance. If Blaine hadn't known what Sebastian was like, he'd have found it all very romantic. Sebastian was dressed in a gorgeous tux and looked like a handsome movie star. He danced really well, and kept his conversation PG, only telling Blaine how gorgeous he looked and how well he'd sung and how much fun this party was.

But then Sebastian tugged him along towards the terrace of the ballroom, and alarm bells went off in Blaine's head. He caught Wes' eye and shot him a panicked look, and felt relieved when Wes nodded imperceptibly and followed them with his date, signalling a few others to do the same.

A few weeks before, Blaine had talked to Wes and told him that he didn't trust Sebastian and was scared he'd force himself on Blaine one day. Wes had promised to have Blaine's back and keep an eye on Sebastian. Blaine was glad to find Wes keeping his word.

Outside, Sebastian laid his arms on the railing and looked up at the moon. "I've always loved the full moon."

Blaine chuckled. "Why? Because you're actually a werewolf?"

"Ha, ha, ha," Sebastian said drily. "No, because it's romantic, of course."

Sebastian turned around, slung an arm around Blaine's middle and pulled him closer. "Don't you think so?"

Blaine, whose nose was now almost brushing Sebastian's, backed away a little, and saw a flash of annoyance in Sebastian's eyes.

Blaine tried to free himself from Sebastian's embrace, saying, "It's cold out here. Let's go back inside."

Sebastian was having none of that, however. He tightened his grip on Blaine, and with a sultry "Oh, I'll warm you up in no time", he took Blaine's jaw in his hand and moved in for a kiss, taking no notice of Blaine's struggle to get free.

Blaine tried to move his face to the side and choked out, "No! Please don't!"

He already felt Sebastian's hot breath on his lips when Sebastian was pulled away from him, and David yelled, "Are you deaf? No is no! Seriously, Smythe, get it on with a guy who actually wants you! Quit bugging Blaine here. You've been trying to get into his pants for months, and every time he says no, you only try harder. Back off, will you? We're all sick of it. This is a non-bullying school, and that includes not forcing yourself on others. Now leave him alone!"

Sebastian growled, took David by the collar and threw him through the terrace doors, which disintegrated into wood splinters and shards of glass and made such a racket that a collective gasp went up in the ballroom, and then everything went so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Jeff swore loudly and threw himself on Sebastian, hitting him with more anger than finesse, and Nick followed suit. Wes stepped into the fray and, after taking a few hits himself, managed to break up the fight.

Sebastian, his dress shirt now torn and bloody in places, was panting heavily and looking like thunder. He zoomed in on Blaine, who stood frozen in place, horrified and scared, and spat at him, "You damn prick-tease! You're just as bad as that twinky soulmate of yours. Well, at least I got him good, and you guys will never be together. Guess you're doomed to die a virgin, you sad little hobbit. Or do you get off on kissing his portrait?"

Blaine's jaw dropped, and a million questions flooded his head, but he was too stunned to get a word out, and before he could get himself together again, Sebastian had turned on his heel and stormed off.

"Blaine? Hey, Blaine? Are you okay?"

Wes shook Blaine gently by the shoulder, and Blaine roused himself from his reverie and muttered, "Sorry."

It sounded pitiful and very inadequate as an apology for all the trouble he'd caused, but Wes shook his head. "Hey now, nobody blames you. What… What did he mean? About your soulmate? Does it have anything to do with… why you transferred here?"

Blaine shook his head.

"Hey, man, don't worry," Thad said. "Smythe is not going to bother you again. He assaulted you, he assaulted David and he damaged the school buildings. No matter how much money his father tries to throw at this, Smythe will get expelled. Good riddance, too."

There were nods and murmurs of assent, and Blaine felt the corners of his mouth turn up at his friends' show of solidarity.

David groaned and sat up slowly. Girls flocked to him and started to fuss over him when they saw he had a cut on his forehead.

"Sorry," Blaine mumbled again, too quietly for David to hear.

Nick laughed. "Don't worry about David. He's got a hard head, so he'll be fine. He's just playing it up as much as he can because he's enjoying all the attention. Let's go back inside, I'm freezing."

As they filed into the ballroom again, Blaine felt the sudden need to get out, run to his car and get to Grace's. It was an urge so insistent that he was halfway across the parking lot before he realised he didn't have his coat nor his car keys. Heading back to his dorm room, he heard a voice in his head, panicky and breathy but perfectly clear. _Blaine! Please come! Grace needs you!_

Blaine doubled his pace while whipping his phone out and calling Jake. "Jake? Something's wrong with Grace. I'm still at Dalton, could you go to her? I'll be there as soon as I can!"

Blaine hurried to his car as soon as he had grabbed everything he needed from his room, and drove to Grace's as fast as he dared, took the spare key from under the flower pot on the window sill next to the front door, and dashed inside.

He found Grace and Jake in the kitchen. Grace was lying on the floor in the kitchen, unconscious. Jake was pacing back and forth. And there was a third, very familiar face, bending over Grace to check her pulse and telling Jake that Grace needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

"Carole?" Blaine asked, curious as to what his former night nurse was doing here.

Carole looked up and smiled at him. "Oh, hey, Blaine!"

Jake came towards Blaine and put his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "Thanks, kid. If you hadn't called… My neighbour here says the longer you wait after a stroke, the less chance there is you'll pull through."

"Yes, we need to get going now!" Carole insisted. "I've got the biggest car, and I'm heading to the hospital for my shift now anyway, so if you could carry her to my car, we can avoid calling an ambulance, 'cause they charge through the roof!"

"I can help," Blaine offered, and together, Jake and Blaine carried Grace to Carole's car. Jake rode shotgun, and Blaine in the back, Grace's head on his lap and his hands warming up her cold fingers.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Jake and Blaine spent hours either sitting on the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room or pacing back and forth to pass the time while Grace was being operated on.

When finally, the doctors came with the welcome news that Grace would be all right, they would only let Jake visit her, so Blaine sat back down on his uncomfortable chair and waited for Jake to come back, his head whirling with far too many memories and emotions.

It was four in the morning by the time Jake and Blaine left the hospital. They took a taxi back to Grace's.

"Better stay the night here, kid," Jake said. "You're much too tired to drive."

"What about you?" Blaine asked.

"I'll walk. It's only a few blocks."

Blaine let himself into Grace's house, climbed the stairs wearily and only took off his shoes before face-planting on his bed and falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

He woke up a bit past ten in the morning, sitting up straight and looking around for whomever had woken him up by calling his name, but the insistent voice was gone and he seemed all alone in the house.

Blaine trudged downstairs, stretching and yawning so widely he nearly dislocated his jaw, and made himself coffee and scrambled eggs.

After breakfast, Blaine called Jake and asked if Grace had been moved from the ICU to a regular hospital room yet. She had, and she was doing well, apparently. Blaine let out a sigh of relief and told Jake he'd go visit Grace that afternoon.

The whole family was there when Blaine knocked on the door and stepped into Grace's hospital room, and Laura instantly came to envelop Blaine in a hug, crying and saying thank you over and over again.

Blaine comforted her as best he could, and then turned to Grace, taking one of her hands in his. "Hey… You woke up."

Grace smiled at him. At least, she tried to, but the left side of her face refused cooperation, and it looked more like a grimace. "B-b-b-laine."

"Mom has trouble talking," Jake explained, frowning. "She can't move her left arm or leg, either. The doctors say it might come back, but then again, it might not."

"It w-w-will!" Grace insisted.

"You can't know that for sure, Mom," Jake retorted. "I think we'd better sign you up for all the assisted living facilities in Westerville. You know how long the waiting lists are. Better to have a place and not need it than to need one and be told every facility is full."

"N-n-no!" Grace exclaimed. "I w-w-want to s-s-stay in m-m-my house!"

"Mom, be reasonable," Jake argued. "Signing up doesn't mean you have to leave your house straightaway. It just means you move up on the waiting list so that if you ever have another stroke, or something else happens to you and you can't live alone anymore, you'll have a place at an assisted living facility."

"N-n-no!"

K&B

Grace had to stay at the hospital for several weeks, but thankfully, she regained the use of her left side and her speech went back to normal as well.

"See?" she crowed the Saturday Jake brought her back home. "I don't need an assisted living facility. Not me!"

Jake rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. After all, they had signed up Grace, so now she was on the waiting list, just in case. Jake had bought her a pendant with a personal alarm button, too. He wasn't taking any more chances.

Blaine hadn't stayed over at Grace's since that night she was admitted to the hospital, but now he'd packed an overnight bag and arrived at Grace's early on Saturday morning to clean the place from top to bottom, stock the fridge and the pantry with groceries, and rake up all the wet leaves in the garden and put them on the compost heap.

He'd bought Grace a welcome home cake, too, and she beamed when she saw it on the dining room table when she came in. "Thank you, sweetie!"

Jake left after having some cake and coffee, with a kiss for Grace and a pat on the back for Blaine, as well as a whisper, "Look after Mom for me, okay?"

Blaine nodded earnestly. As much as Grace might like to pretend nothing had changed, Blaine knew it had, and it scared him. He'd never thought of Grace as old, though she was in her eighties already, but now he'd realised how quickly he could lose her, and that thought was unbearable.

Grace went to bed early that night, and Blaine zapped through the television channels for a bit longer, but couldn't find anything that caught his interest, so he went upstairs and got ready for bed, too.

K&B

As soon as he fell asleep, he was back in the meadow, but before he could get his bearings, somebody slapped him on the cheek. Hard. "Huh?"

"Blaine Devon Anderson! Would it have killed you to spare a moment to tell me what was going on? I've been out of my mind with worry for WEEKS!"

The painted boy stood before Blaine, his eyes blazing, his mouth a thin line and his hands on his hips.

Blaine opened and closed his mouth like a fish several times.

The painted boy cocked his head to the side, chin up.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Blaine couldn't help grinning widely. More than anything, the anger that was directed at him right now proved to him that his friend wasn't imaginary in the least. That he was very much a real person, with feelings Blaine wasn't projecting on him. And he was Blaine's soulmate, too, if Sebastian was to be believed.

Blaine didn't care how long it would take for him to figure out how to free the boy from the painting, or what he'd have to do to break the spell. He was determined to do it.

"Stop laughing at me, it's not funny," the boy hissed. Towards the end of the sentence, his voice wobbled a bit, and Blaine instantly reached for him.

With his arms firmly wrapped around his friend, whose slender frame was racking with sobs now, Blaine whispered, "I missed you too. So much."

"I thought… Grace was dead! I thought… you were with… Sebastian!"

The boy drew back a little so that he could look at Blaine. "I thought… you'd forgotten me!"

That pierced Blaine straight through the heart, and he was quick with his reassurances. "No, no… How could I?"

Blaine took a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently dabbed the wetness from his friend's cheeks. "I'm sorry I haven't been around. But I promise you this: I will never forget you, and I am never saying goodbye to you."


	9. Chapter 8: Content

**Author's Note:**

 **Kurt's point of view again.**

Chapter 8: Content

Kurt looked at Grace lying there motionless on the cold kitchen floor, and knew he had to do something. He summoned all his energy and sent a preservation spell in Grace's direction. Maybe that would keep Grace's brain functions intact until Blaine turned up. If he turned up.

Kurt told himself to focus on Grace right now instead of worrying about Blaine, and used another spell to heat up the floor tiles so that Grace wouldn't freeze. After that, Kurt was so wiped out that he wouldn't even have been able to jump back into his portrait. Good thing then that he wanted to stay in the kitchen to keep an eye on Grace.

Mere minutes after Kurt had called upon Blaine telepathically, a key rattled in the lock of the front door, but it wasn't Blaine calling out. It was Jake. "Mom? Mom, are you okay? Blaine just called and told me to come over here…"

Jake's footsteps came closer, and then he reached the kitchen and gasped. "Mom!"

Jake kneeled next to Grace and mumbled to himself, "Is she still breathing? Is her heart still beating? I need Carole. She'd know. Let's hope she hasn't left for the hospital yet."

Thankfully, Carole was still at home when Jake called, and promised to come straightaway. She arrived a short while later, and checked on Grace with a professionalism that Kurt found very reassuring.

Kurt was so focussed on Grace, who still hadn't woken up, that he didn't notice Blaine's arrival until he heard him speak. Things went very fast after that, with Carole insisting that Grace be brought to the hospital as soon as possible. Before Kurt knew it, he was all alone in the house, and all he could do was hope that Grace would recover.

He tried jumping back into his portrait, but he'd depleted his energy with the spells to protect Grace, and seeing as no-one had spoken to him, he hadn't been able to recharge, so he'd have to stay in the kitchen for the foreseeable future.

Early in the morning, Kurt heard someone come into the house, but whoever it was didn't come to the kitchen. They climbed the stairs and went into one of the bedrooms.

 _Is that Blaine? Ugh, I want to jump into my portrait and check, it's so annoying that I can't!_

Kurt tried reaching out to Blaine using their mental connection again, but drew a blank, and then spent hours worrying that his soulmate was lost to him. Finally, he firmly told himself to snap out of it and try again. Now, he did feel that tether that bound him to Blaine again, but it was weak. Very weak.

Moments later, though, Kurt heard footsteps above the kitchen, and then someone came down the stairs. It proved to be Blaine, who took his time stretching. His shirt rode up and showed a few inches of well-defined stomach.

Kurt, hidden behind the tablecloth in the kitchen painting, peered at Blaine with wide eyes. How had Blaine suddenly become so grown-up… and so hot? It seemed like just seconds ago that Blaine sat in that very same kitchen in a high chair while Grace fed him pureed carrots. The recollection made Kurt's cheeks burn with shame at his reaction. What was he doing, perving over Blaine, whom he'd known since the boy had been in diapers?

But right then, Blaine reached for the coffee grinder in one of the top cabinets, and his shirt rode up again, revealing just the slightest tease of his butt cheeks, and Kurt really couldn't help the desire that flamed in his veins at the sight.

Blaine ate his breakfast in silence, washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen. Then he sighed, took his phone out of his pocket and then dialled a number, walking out of the kitchen and to the front door. All Kurt heard of that telephone conversation before Blaine left the house was a quiet "Hey, Jake". Nothing else.

Kurt was so used to Grace keeping him in the loop by telling him every tiny detail about her day that this uncertainty was unbearable. Was Grace okay? Was Blaine ever coming back? Was he still Kurt's soulmate or was that all lost now?

Kurt had no answers, and as the days went by, it didn't seem likely he'd ever get his answers. The house stayed quiet and empty and undisturbed for weeks on end.

When Kurt finally heard a key rattle in the lock, he heaved a thankful sigh, and when he saw it was Blaine, he smiled happily.

Blaine was laden with bags filled with groceries. He checked the fridge, threw out all expired items and stocked it anew with vegetables, meat, cheese, eggs and milk. He brought the rotten fruit from the fruit bowl to the compost heap in the garden, rinsed out the bowl and then filled it with fresh fruit. He wrinkled his nose at the rotten onions and potatoes in the pantry and removed those too, replacing them with fresh ones.

After that, he took Grace's feather duster and started dusting all the ornaments on the kitchen windowsill, humming as he went along. By the time he started mopping the floor, the humming had turned into singing, and ever so often Blaine would look in Kurt's direction for a split second, and Kurt would feel the energy Blaine sent his way and soak it up greedily.

By the time Blaine moved upstairs to vacuum and dust the rooms, Kurt was recharged enough to jump into his portrait. He eagerly awaited Blaine, who cleaned the master bedroom first, the en-suite bathroom and the landing, keeping his own room for last. If Kurt had expected Blaine to talk to him, he was in for bitter disappointment. Blaine smiled at Kurt's portrait, yes, but he didn't talk. He just kept singing, and however much Kurt loved Blaine's singing voice, he was frustrated that Blaine wouldn't tell him what was going on.

Later that day, Grace came back home, and she seemed as good as new, though her left eyelid drooped a little and her mouth showed a nervous twitch that hadn't been there before.

Kurt was happy to see Grace again, but couldn't help but notice that Jake and Blaine exchanged worried looks every time Grace got up or carried something from the kitchen to the dining room table, and tried to take over even the smallest of tasks from her.

Grace noticed as well, and though she didn't say anything, Kurt saw her mouth tighten in determination as she refused to let her son and surrogate grandson mollycoddle her.

Kurt could see how much of an effort it took Grace to keep up the cheery, business-as-usual façade, and wasn't a bit surprised when she turned in early.

 _Let's hope Blaine doesn't take too long. I want to talk to him._

Blaine obligingly went to bed soon after, and Kurt smiled and jumped into the meadow painting, waiting for his soulmate to arrive.

When Blaine appeared in the meadow, Kurt ran towards him, meaning to hug him. When he came to a halt in front of Blaine, though, all his frustration and anger at being left alone and in the dark for so long came surging up and made him slap Blaine instead, yelling about how he'd been worried sick.

Blaine, his face a study of shock, recoiled a little. Before Kurt could relent, however, Blaine's mouth curved up at the edges in an impish grin.

 _Is he seriously LAUGHING at me right now?_

Kurt lashed out at Blaine, but the hurt he felt made him dissolve into tears before he'd even finished his first sentence. And then Blaine was there, holding him firmly but tenderly, rocking him, and words of comfort washed over Kurt, Blaine's voice buttery soft and soothing. And everything Kurt never meant to say just spilled out of Kurt in a hiccupy jumble. It was worth it, though, to see the certainty in Blaine's eyes when he vowed that he'd never leave Kurt nor forget about him.

Kurt sniffled and smiled at Blaine, feeling a bit ashamed of his outburst now. Blaine smiled back and gave him the lightest of bunny kisses. That made Kurt laugh, and just like that, the tension between them dissolved and they were back to normal, Kurt asking question after question about what had happened with Grace, and Blaine answering, never letting go of Kurt even for a moment.

Kurt basked in Blaine's affection. Blaine didn't mention the dance he'd gone to, and didn't say a word about Sebastian, but surely… Surely, Blaine coming back to Kurt and being so affectionate meant that Blaine wasn't seeing Sebastian?

Two weeks later, Blaine finally brought up Sebastian, just in passing, mentioning that he'd been expelled from Dalton Academy. Blaine didn't go into detail, and Kurt didn't ask, but his stomach did backflips and he had to bite back his grin.

Blaine kept hovering anxiously around Grace during the weekends, trying to take over any task he considered too taxing for her, and Kurt could see how much that irked Grace. One day, it came to a head when Grace tersely told Blaine to stop shadowing her. "I'm sick of this! I'm not an invalid, and I'm not senile. I can make dinner all by myself. I don't need you to help. If you want to make yourself useful, go work in the garden. After that storm we had last night, there are dead branches everywhere. Go sweep them up so that I don't break my legs next time I go outside, please."

Blaine looked taken aback, but didn't argue. He nodded, put on rubber boots and went outside.

Grace sighed and told the photograph of her husband that she hated being angry with Blaine. "He's such a sweet boy, truly, he is. You'd have loved him. He's just… He's treating me as if I have one foot in the grave already, and I don't. I don't!"

Grace got out all the ingredients she needed for her sauce, and then frowned when she saw she was all out of flour. She stepped into the pantry, and Kurt heard her voice floating back to the kitchen. "Now why did Blaine put the flour all the way at the top? I can't reach it. Where's my footstool?"

Grace went to the living room to fetch her footstool and carried it to the pantry.

 _Uh-oh… Be careful, Grace!_

Kurt heard Grace whisper, "Just a bit further. Maybe if I stand on my tippy-toes?"

 _Oh, no, please don't!_

A scream followed, a thump and then a groan.

Kurt couldn't see Grace from his vantage point, but he was sure something was very wrong. He fought the wave of panic that swept through him to call on Blaine.

 _Blaine! Blaine, please come back!_

Blaine came thundering back into the house, leaving muddy footprints on the floor and gasping when he caught sight of Grace.

"Oh, no, no, no! Not again!"

Blaine called Jake and told him to bring Carole if he could. After a moment of silence, Blaine said, "Grace? Can you hear me? Please wake up! I can't lose you. I just can't."

There was another groan, and then Kurt heard Blaine's voice again. He sounded relieved. "Grace? I think you fell. Where does it hurt?"

Grace groaned again, and then croaked, "My hip. Oh, it hurts so much."

"I'm right here," Blaine promised. "You can squeeze my hand if that helps."

A dry chuckle followed.

"No, I guess it doesn't help," Blaine conceded. "Jake and Carole should be here soon."

Grace's son and his neighbour arrived soon after that, and this time around, Carole did call an ambulance. "That hip is broken. I don't want to make it worse."

Once again, the house was left empty, and Kurt's mind went back to worrying. That evening, though, Blaine was back. He made himself dinner, watched some TV and then went upstairs.

As soon as Blaine appeared in the meadow, Kurt blurted out, "Well?"

Blaine smiled sadly. "Her hip is broken. At her age, they're not going to replace it anymore. Too many risks involved, apparently. So it will have to heal by itself, and even in the best scenario, that will take a long time. It's possible that it will never fully heal. And that means Grace isn't going to be able to stay here."

Blaine sighed.

Kurt squeezed his hand in comfort, and then asked, "So the house will be sold?"

Blaine nodded, his face glum. "Grace is going straight from the hospital to an assisted living facility."

Kurt's stomach dropped. "So I'm never going to see you again?"

Blaine looked at Kurt as though he'd suddenly grown two extra heads. "Of course you will. I asked Grace if I could have your portrait as a keepsake, and she told me I could. So tomorrow morning, when I leave, I'm taking you with me."

Kurt bit his lip. "Somehow I don't think it will be that simple."

Blaine quirked an eyebrow, but Kurt did not elaborate. If he revealed too much, Blaine would be whisked away from him again, and Kurt want to savour these last moments with him, since he wasn't quite as confident as Blaine that the portrait could be taken elsewhere.

Blaine sprawled down on the grass and patted the space next to him. Kurt rolled his eyes but lay down as well. Blaine rolled onto his side, cupped Kurt's face gently and pressed his forehead against Kurt's. "Hey… It's going to be fine. You want to know how I know that?"

Kurt swallowed and then whispered, "Yes."

Blaine stroked Kurt's cheek. "Because…"

Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead. "We belong together, you and I."

Blaine kissed the tip of Kurt's nose, and then his cheek, and then the cleft in his chin. "And nothing… or no-one… can keep us apart."

Blaine nuzzled the hollow of Kurt's neck, and then trailed a string of kisses along his collarbones. "We are soulmates."

Kurt, by now a puddle of goo under Blaine's ministrations, felt a tear escape. This was everything he'd ever wanted for so long. But would Sebastian let them get away with it?

Blaine tenderly wiped away the wetness from Kurt's cheek and then took his chin. "I love you."

Blaine moved in until his lips brushed Kurt's, and Kurt exhaled shakily, his breath mingling with Blaine's, and that was such a heady feeling that he closed his eyes and pressed his lips more firmly against Blaine's.

Kurt would have been happy to spend the rest of his life kissing - it felt SO good - but they'd hardly started when they heard someone clapping slowly.

With a gasp, Kurt tore away from Blaine, sat up and looked where the sound came from.

Sebastian. Of course. There he stood, in the meadow, his shirt half open, his eyes bloodshot, holding a bottle of whisky.

"Aww, that was touching," Sebastian drawled, pretending to wipe away a tear. "So that's how you've been reeling Blaine in, is it, princess? Turning his dreams at night into a world where you can be together? That's clever. I hadn't thought of that. I felt strong vibes from the two of you, but I didn't know how you did it."

Sebastian took a swig of whisky. "And now you probably think you've saved him, do you, Blaine? True love's kiss and all that? Ha! You wish! It's going to take a bit more than that, I can tell you."

Blaine stood up slowly, anger radiating from him. "Like what, Sebastian? I remember what you told me at the Dalton party. What on earth did you do to my soulmate?"

"Your soulmate," Sebastian mocked. "Would you listen to yourself? You're pathetic. Only sixteen years old, and talking about soulmates. At your age, you should be trying out all sorts of stuff, not tying yourself down."

Blaine growled, "The only one here who's pathetic is you!"

Sebastian didn't like that, and with a scream, he morphed into his fiery self, hissing and crackling and towering over Blaine. The heat that came off him made Blaine back away a little, his arm over his eyes, and it made the whisky bottle explode.

Funnily enough, that was what made Sebastian go back to his human form, looking at the remains of the bottle ruefully and muttering, "That was good whisky. What a waste!"

"Tell me what to do to free my soulmate!" Blaine insisted.

Sebastian smirked. "Simple. Prove that you're really soulmates with the princess here. Tell me his name and his age. If you can do that, I'll let him go."

Sebastian waved his fingers lazily in Kurt's direction, and Kurt felt himself stiffen up, unable to move or speak. "Of course, I'm going to make sure there's no cheating. No talking, no sign language. You can only use your soul connection."

Kurt felt a spark of hope kindle in his heart. He could do that. Yes. He'd done it before. He closed his eyes and focussed on the facts Sebastian wanted.

 _My name is Kurt. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel._

Kurt vaguely heard Blaine repeating that to Sebastian.

 _I was born on the 27th of May 1933, so I'm seventy-seven years old. Nearly seventy-eight._

Blaine sucked in a deep breath and then let it out in a whoosh and repeated what Kurt had told him.

Sebastian let out a frustrated scream, already smouldering at the edges again, but Blaine stayed calm and just grabbed his arm. "Sebastian, you promised."

"How did you DO that?" Sebastian whined.

Blaine shrugged. "Soul connection."

"There's no such thing," Sebastian said, but he sounded unsure now, his eyes flicking towards Kurt, motionless and mute, but somehow still capable of thwarting him.

"You promised," Blaine repeated, staring Sebastian down.

"You pwomised," Sebastian repeated in a mocking, baby-like voice. "Well, your soulmate here swore to serve me for a hundred years and then didn't stick to his promise, so why should I? If you want to take your precious Kurtie out of the painting, you'll just have to figure out how to do that yourself. I'm out of here. Bye, losers!"

And with a flash and a bang, Sebastian disappeared, leaving only a smell of burnt matches in the air.

Kurt, who still couldn't move, had a quiet panic attack. What on earth were they supposed to do now?

Blaine knelt before him, his hands on Kurt's arms and his eyes fixed on Kurt's. "Don't panic, love. We will get you back to normal. We will. Clearly your magic is as strong as Sebastian, if not stronger. So don't give up, Kurt, fight! You can do it. You can free yourself."

Kurt closed his eyes and concentrated on the energy flowing through his body, sending it to his arms, his legs and his tongue until the numb feeling faded and they started to tingle. As soon as Kurt's fingers twitched, Blaine took his hands and squeezed them, and that helped, recharging Kurt's batteries instantly.

"Thanks," Kurt mumbled, his tongue still a bit thick.

Blaine beamed at him. "You're doing so well. Now get us both out of the painting, sweetheart."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Just like that, huh? And what's with all the pet names?"

Blaine's face fell. "Oh. You don't like that? Okay, I'll stop. I'll just call you by your name, Kurt. I'm so thrilled I finally know your name."

Blaine gave Kurt a sweet smile he couldn't help but return.

"Sorry, I'm just grumpy," Kurt said. "Anxious. What if this doesn't work? What if I'm stuck in the painting forever?"

"You won't," Blaine promised him. "I know you can do this. Courage!"

"Would you hold me?" Kurt asked.

Standing there in the meadow, Blaine's warm body against his and Blaine's head tucked in the crook of his neck, Kurt closed his eyes again.

 _I am stronger than this. We are stronger than this. Blaine got into the painting to be with me, so I can get out of it to be with him._

Kurt pictured Blaine lying in his bed, sleeping, and imagined lying there next to him, their legs intertwined and Kurt's head resting on Blaine's chest, listening to the calming thump-thump-thump of Blaine's heart. He imagined Blaine softly caressing his back and his hair, and he imagined lifting his head, lips already puckered up for a kiss. Love thrummed through his veins while he pictured this, overwhelming him with its strength, and he felt it flow straight into Blaine and then return twofold. And he laughed, loud and free and joyful, opened his eyes and kissed Blaine, drunk on endorphins and feeling invincible.

"Come," Kurt said, reaching for Blaine's hand and concentrating hard on picturing Blaine's room. "Let's jump."

Kurt felt a weird swoop under his navel and his head spun for a minute. When he blinked his eyes open again, he stood in Blaine's bedroom. His portrait had disappeared, and the wall looked strangely blank. Blaine stood before him, staring at him with wonder in his eyes.

"You did it," Blaine breathed, as if he scarcely dared to believe it was true. "You got us out. You're here!"

Kurt laughed. "Yes. No getting rid of me now."

Blaine let out a sound between a sob and a chuckle, and the next thing Kurt knew, they were kissing again.

It might have been two minutes or two hours later that Blaine drew back, Kurt really couldn't have guessed how much time had passed. He only knew that he wanted to keep kissing Blaine, so he whined unhappily, which made Blaine chuckle.

"We can go back to that later," Blaine promised. "But I think we should talk first. Tell me all about you. Who is Kurt Hummel, and how is it that he's seventy-seven years old and doesn't look a day over eighteen?"

Kurt pouted, so not interested in conversation right now, but Blaine's wheedling, paired with a puppy-dog eye onslaught that proved truly irresistible, soon had Kurt talking himself hoarse, about the fairy kingdom he came from, about his dad and his mom, about being Sebastian's servant and then about being stuck in a painting.

"Apparently, I had more power left than I thought, seeing as I could bring you to of my world at night," Kurt mused. "And when you got thrown out because you asked personal questions, well, that was probably just me freaking out and not Sebastian interfering. He really didn't have a clue what I could do, did he? If he'd known, he'd never have let us off so easily."

Blaine grinned and nodded. "So… Can I visit your kingdom, or are humans not allowed there?"

Kurt bumped his shoulder against Blaine's playfully. "Of course humans can visit, only, they need to find the kingdom first. It's not easy. But you have a guide. That helps."

Blaine beamed. "So you'll take me there?"

"Right now, if you like," Kurt said. "I haven't seen my dad in ages."

In the end, they had breakfast first. Kurt showered and then reluctantly put the same outfit back on. Blaine had offered him some of his clothes, but Kurt wouldn't accept anything other than boxers and socks. "I'd rather wait 'till I'm home to change into something else. If I put on your stuff, it's going to look like it shrunk in the wash."

"Hey! I'm not that short!"

Kurt smirked. "Keep telling yourself that, shorty. Come on, let's go!"

They left the house where Kurt had spent nearly sixty years, and Kurt did a slow 360° turn to figure out which way they were supposed to go. All magic left traces, and all he had to do was pick up on that and follow the people who'd cast the spells. Now that his full powers had been restored, it took Kurt no more than a finger-click to transport them both to his kingdom, and once he was there, it was the easiest thing in the world to find his dad.

Burt burst into tears when he saw Kurt, and enveloped him in a fierce bear hug. "Kurt, kiddo… I can't believe it. I can't believe it! It's only been fifty-nine years. How is it possible you're back already?"

Kurt laughed. "Well, if you want me gone for another thirty years or so, just say the word and I'll go."

Burt tightened his grip on Kurt. "No! Don't you dare disappear on me again!"

Blaine chuckled nervously next to Kurt, and Burt whipped his head around and released Kurt from his boa constrictor hold. "Hi, there."

"Hi," said Blaine. He looked a bit intimidated.

Before Burt could start interrogating Blaine, Kurt intervened. "Dad, this is Blaine. He's my soulmate, and he's the reason I got out early."

Burt raised an eyebrow. "He is? Whoever you are, kid, I like you already. Join us for lunch, will you?"

Lunch took hours, though Burt and Kurt hardly ate a bite. They were too busy catching up with each other. Apparently, in the years that Kurt had been gone, Burt had chosen Jeremy, a nephew of his, as his successor and had been teaching him all the tricks of the trade. "Of course, now that you're back, the throne will go to you when I die, but I don't think he'll mind. He's a good kid."

Kurt shook his head. "No. No, Dad. I don't want to become king. I want to go back to the human world and live out my life with Blaine."

Burt's eyebrows both went up this time. "Oh?"

Next to him, Blaine had an identical expression on his face.

 _Oops. Probably should have discussed this with Blaine first._

Burt frowned. "How old are you, exactly, Blaine?"

"I'm sixteen, sir. Your majesty? Sire?"

Burt snorted. "None of that. Just Burt will do."

"Burt," Blaine parroted softly.

"So you're still in high school, huh?" Burt asked.

"I'm a junior, si… Burt."

"Huh. And you're planning to study what in college?"

"I want to study environmental science, si… Burt."

"To become what, later?" Burt wanted to know.

Blaine smiled happily. "I want to work for the government. Make a change and help people."

"That's noble," Burt said. "What do your parents think of your plans?"

Blaine's smile faltered. "I… I haven't told them."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine got gay-bashed when he was nearly fifteen. After that, his parents shipped him off to a swanky boarding school, and they're making him stay there year-round and just pretend he doesn't exist. Maybe they'll pay for college too, but I doubt it."

Burt squirmed in his seat. "I have a trust fund. If my parents won't pay for college, I can use that. And I'll work, too, to put myself through college."

Burt gave Blaine a piercing look. "No, you won't. You're Kurt's soulmate, so you're family. I'll pay for your education."

Kurt felt his heart swell. "So you're coming with us?"

"Sure am, kid," Burt said. "I'm not going to let you out of my sight ever again. Jeremy can have the crown, I'm coming with you. I'll work as a handyman. I'm good at solving people's problems."

"You'd do that, for me?" Blaine asked, his tone incredulous.

"Yep. Welcome to the family, kid!"


	10. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

 **And we're at the end already... Thank you for taking this journey with me. By all means let me know what you thought of it!**

Epilogue

 _Lima, April 2011_

Burt rang the doorbell, quirking an eyebrow when he didn't hear it ring. He tried again, but nothing happened. He shrugged and fished his cell phone out of his pocket to call his client instead.

"Carole Hudson speaking."

"Hey, Ms Hudson, I'm here to fix your toilet. Could you let me in? The doorbell doesn't seem to work."

"Coming! And please call me Carole."

Moments later, the door swung open, and Carole smiled at Burt, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"Mr Hummel! I'm so glad you're here, you have NO idea. I told Finn not to use the upstairs bathroom until it was fixed, but of course he forgot and he flooded the bathroom. I've only just cleaned it up."

"If I'm to call you Carole, you call me Burt, okay? And no worries, Carole, we'll get that fixed in no time. Want me to look at the doorbell, too?"

Carole beamed at him. "Yes, please."

Burt whistled while he worked, pleasantly surprised when Carole offered him not only a drink but also a plate of peanut butter cookies, with that same sweet smile.

 _Now there's a woman after my own heart._

Two days later, Burt was fixing a garden fence when his phone rang, and it proved to be Carole again. This time, she called for a leaking tap in the kitchen. "It was just a small leak at first, and I asked Finn to take a look at it, but oh, he made things so much worse. Now the tap's not leaking but actually spouting water, and the kitchen's completely flooded. So please, if you could come as soon as possible, I'd really appreciate it."

"I'll be there as soon as I've picked up some supplies at the hardware store," Burt promised, and he went to tell Ms Johnson that he'd had an emergency call and would have to reschedule the fixing of the fence. She didn't like that. Her face went as red as a tomato, and she yelled at him, calling him lazy and unreliable, like all handymen. Burt gritted his teeth and told her he'd come back the next day, first thing in the morning, and then left without paying any more attention to her insults.

After stopping at the hardware store, Burt drove to the Hudson's as fast as he could. When Carole opened the door, she looked dishevelled and wet, but she sent him a radiant smile and thanked him for coming so swiftly.

"No problem, Carole. The kitchen's this way?"

As Burt had feared, the botched attempt to repair the tap had completely ruined it, and the tap had to be replaced, which took quite a while. Half an hour before his usual dinner time, Burt told Carole he'd have to call his son to tell him he wouldn't be able to make it home on time for dinner.

"Your son cooks for you?" Carole inquired.

"Yep," Burt confirmed. "Does it really well, too, though there's never enough meat for my liking. Between you and me, he cooks a great deal better than his mom ever did. Lizzie was great at many things, but cooking wasn't one of them."

"You say 'was'," Carole said softly, her eyes sad.

"Yeah," Burt sighed. "She died when Kurt was seven."

"Me too," Carole blurted out, clapping a hand over her mouth immediately after, eyes wide. "I mean… I lost my husband too. When Finn was just a baby."

"Oh. I thought Finn was your husband."

Carole looked at Burt from under her eyelashes. "No, he's my son. I… After Chris died, I've never really started dating again. Being a single mom is hard. Especially if you work night shifts. And now Finn's all grown up and I have more time, but now I'm too old to date. Men my age want younger women."

"I don't," Burt declared. "If you weren't totally out of my league, I'd ask you out right now."

Carole blushed. "I'd say yes."

K&B

Six months later, Burt and Carole got married, and Carole and Finn moved in with the Hummels.

When Kurt and Blaine went to visit Grace at the assisted living facility after the wedding, and she tentatively asked Kurt how he felt about his father remarrying, Kurt laughed and told her it was about time. "They were being embarrassing. Well, my dad was, anyway. Apparently, when my dad's in love, he can speak of nothing else. That got old fast. And whenever Carole and Finn came over for dinner, my dad couldn't stop touching and kissing her. So I told him he'd better make it official, and went ring-shopping with him. Took him another two weeks to work up the courage to ask her, though. And then he asked Finn first, to know if he'd be okay with his mom remarrying. Finn took some time warming up to us, you know."

Grace nodded. She remembered Kurt and Blaine coming to visit and being really upset because Finn had called them faggots in Burt's presence and Burt had yelled at him and then told both Carole and Finn to leave.

That hiccup had been dealt with soon, though. After a week of seeing his mother mope because she missed Burt, Finn had driven to Westerville to apologise to Kurt and Blaine. When Burt had come home from work that Friday evening, he'd found all three boys playing Mario Kart and munching on mozzarella sticks.

Kurt had waved at his dad. "Lasagna's in the oven, Dad. Just half an hour more, and we can eat."

Burt, his jaw set, had been about to light into Finn when Blaine had added, "Finn drove here especially to come and apologise, wasn't that nice of him?"

Burt had grunted and sat down in his armchair, and that had been the end of that. Carole had rung the doorbell shortly after, looking a bit apprehensive about the welcome she would get, but Burt had let her in without any comment, and since then, everyone had gotten along.

"So you don't mind getting a stepmom?" Grace asked.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly Cinderella. Carole is lovely and Finn is nice, though he's so uncoordinated he keeps knocking things over and stubbing his head and elbows and toes. Still, I hate how he eats all the food that's in the house without ever replacing anything and leaves dirty socks under the sofa."

Kurt wrinkled his nose, and Grace chuckled. "Boys are like that."

"I'm not!" Kurt disagreed. "And neither is Blaine. His dorm room is always perfectly tidy. Blaine will be a nicer housemate than Finn. I'm so glad Blaine's graduating this year so that we can find an apartment of our own and move in together next fall."

Blaine beamed at Kurt. "Can't wait!"

Kurt kissed him. "I'm so proud of you for that early acceptance you scored at Berkeley. My dad will grumble that California is so far away, but hey, if he could follow us to Westerville, he could follow us there too, if he wanted."

Blaine chuckled. "Your dad JUST got married and you'd haul him 'cross country? I don't think so. He's got Carole and Finn. He'll get along fine without us. We'll visit. As often as you like."

Grace sighed. "I'll miss you two. I've signed up for all the activities they offer here, so I'm keeping busy, and so far I really love the painting and the pottery, but I always look forward to your visits, sweeties."

"We'll visit," Blaine promised. "Any chance we get."

Grace patted Blaine's hand. "It won't be the same as having you so near, and visiting every weekend, but that's okay. I just… I can't believe you're all grown up, sweetie. It seems like yesterday that Pam brought you over for the first time, and you were such a tiny little baby."

Blaine blushed, Kurt cooed and kissed him on the cheek, and Grace laughed. "Yes, I'll miss this."

K&B

 _Washington, November 26, 2020_

"Ugh, that's ENOUGH!" Carole admonished Burt and Blaine. "NO politics at the dinner table! It's Thanksgiving, and you're supposed to tell us what you're thankful for, not discuss a bill you want to pass."

Burt and Blaine mumbled a sorry.

"What's 'politics'?" Barbra wanted to know, and Finn groaned and hissed to Rachel, "You're explaining that one!"

There was no need, however. Luke was already clearing his throat, and then proceeded to give his cousin a long-winded and far from clear explanation. Kurt was lost by the second sentence, and judging by Barbra's glazed-over eyes, she was in the same boat, and no doubt regretting her question already.

When Luke took a deep breath, Carole quickly offered him a second helping of pumpkin pie, and that thankfully ended the lecture.

Burt winked at Blaine and mouthed, "That's our boy!"

Blaine nodded and grinned ear to ear.

Kurt rolled his eyes at them both, but couldn't help smiling at proud daddy Blaine. Luke might not be Blaine's son biologically, since Kurt and Blaine had chosen to adopt first Lucas and then Charlotte instead of using a surrogate, but there was no doubt whom Luke took after - sharing Blaine's thirst for knowledge, his musicality, his helpfulness and his cheerful nature.

Kurt shuddered at the thought of Luke following in his dad's footsteps, though.

Soon after marrying Carole, Burt had run for Congress, and the Hudmels had moved to Washington DC. Kurt and Blaine followed them there after Blaine's studies, when Blaine had received a job offer with the government that had him squeak in disbelief and then jump up and down gleefully for a full five minutes.

Now that Burt had been a Congressman for nearly ten years and Blaine was working on a new government project investigating climate change that Burt had strongly advocated, they hardly ever spoke of anything else whenever Gramps Burt and Nana Carole came to visit Luke and Lottie. That's why Carole had instated the "No politics at the dinner table" rule, not that it helped much. Burt and Blaine were both passionate about the causes they supported, and liked hashing out new ideas together.

However, it was Thanksgiving. What's more, Finn and Rachel and their daughter Barbra had come all the way from New York to celebrate Thanksgiving with the Hudmels and the Anderson-Hummels, so Kurt wanted to hear all about Rachel's latest show, Finn's glee club making it through to regionals and Barbra shining in her first Broadway role playing Rachel's daughter. Kurt didn't want to hear another word about the carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere or how this new trans senator, Misty Snow, could be a great ally for Burt because her aims were so similar to his.

Kurt clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Okay, I'll start. As always, I'm thankful for my wonderful husband, my amazing children and my whole family at large. Also, I'm thankful that my accessory line sold so well this year, and that two more magazines are regularly publishing articles I've written."

One by one, everyone else said what they were thankful for, which lead to smiles and chuckles and happy tears.

When it was Blaine's turn, he smiled at Kurt and squeezed his hand. "I'm thankful for our family too. Burt, who's made me feel welcome from Day One. Carole, who cheered me up when I was a scared and hurt teenager. Finn, who's the brother I've always wanted to have. And of course Kurt and Luke and Lottie. You guys are my life, and I couldn't wish for a better one. It's really picture perfect."

THE END


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